


Abduction of Myth

by morrezela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 54,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the End of Season 5: Dean is kind of, sort of, not really fitting into his apple pie life when Bobby comes to him with a case. Seems somebody has started abducting Sam’s old girlfriends – dead and alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Abduction of Myth

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Kripke and the CW and only Chuck knows who else. I’m not making anything off of this.
> 
> Pairing(s): Brief Lisa/Dean, mentions of previous Sam/Jess, eventual Sam/Dean
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings: Wincest, violence, and some potentially disturbing graphic imagery. Powers!Sam and bastardization of Greek and Roman mythology.
> 
> A/N: This story is mostly written and is set after the end of Season5 – so spoilers up to that point. I wrote this a few years ago, so it doesn't have the 'polish' of most of my newer stories. Still, I'm putting it up on AO3 as it is a bit of a long read to go through on livejournal posts.
> 
> All mistakes that you find are my own.

Life with Dean Winchester wasn’t what Lisa had imagined it to be, as far as she had ever imagined it that is. In truth, she had never gotten that far past the daydreaming of it all because the logic centers in her brain knew that actually having him was an impossibility.

He was like a mythical superhero in her mind. Half sex god and half virtuous defender. His reality couldn’t possibly live up to her fantasy of him, even if the sex part was pretty close to being true.

But she ignored all her common sense when he showed back up on her doorstep. Really, who wouldn’t? A woman would be foolish to turn away a bona fide hero that actually wanted to be the father to her son, and as much as it bugged her to admit her shallowness, Dean’s general hotness did make up for some of his faults.

Even though she hadn’t spent all that much time around Dean, she was kind of in love with him. Plus, the guy was clearly broken beyond words, and that just plain pulled at her heart strings in all the right ways. The bad boy vibe still called to her youth and the injured soul tugged equally as hard at her mother’s heart.

Lisa wasn’t a stupid woman. She knew that there would be issues, and given what little she did know about Dean’s life, she prepared herself the best way that she knew how. She went and bought a book on posttraumatic stress disorder and did as much research on the problems of soldiers adapting back into normal life as she possibly could. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but she figured that there wasn’t going to a book out there on how to handle a post-apocalyptic demon hunter’s reintegration into normal society unless she ended up writing it.

What she didn’t count on was that Dean was the most contrary bastard to ever have been born.

The first week he alternated between saying nothing and then suddenly bursting into tears. Although ‘bursting’ might be the wrong word, it was more like his eyes would just start leaking while his face stayed in whatever expression it had been in moments before.

The only time that he snapped out of his funk was when Ben was around. It was like a switch got thrown inside, and Dean would become alive and animated.

It was creepy to see the sudden change, and disturbing to see the light just snuff itself out the instant that Ben was gone.

It was, Lisa learned, a skill that Dean’s life had taught him. He just kept getting up and moving, and what kept him moving was being helpful to somebody else. The man simply had no concept of selfishness. Sure he had no compunction about grabbing the last of the morning coffee or the last donut or stealing the first shower, but true self-centered motivations appeared to be a completely foreign concept to him.

At the end of the first week, Dean drove Ben over to a friend’s house because Ben wanted to show up there in the ‘cool’ car. Dean brought back a pizza on the way because somehow he’d seen in her eyes that she was too tired to cook for them, and Dean admitted that he had very limited skills in the kitchen.

She’d cracked open a beer for each of them and looked around just in time to see the color drain from Dean’s face. From the way he looked, she’d been ready to run for the duffle bag of weaponry that he had stashed in her bedroom closet. But he assured her that they’d just gotten his order wrong.

He’d smiled to reinforce his claim, but his eyes started that weird leaking thing again, and his smile was brittle.

“Dean?” She’d asked because there simply wasn’t any way that she could even pretend to not see it.

“Sammy’s gone,” was all he said in response. No explanation. No exposition like the pizza parlor had managed to make Sam’s favorite kind of pizza or anything like that. Just, “Sammy’s gone.”

Well, that and a keening wail right before he put his fist through the kitchen wall.

He broke a finger doing that but refused to go to the doctor. When Lisa insisted, he grunted and explained that he couldn’t very well go to the doctor to get his bone fixed because he was legally dead, and even if he wasn’t, he’d be wanted by the feds.

That wasn’t what Lisa had ever thought he was going to say, but it gave her enough to think about while Dean went into her bedroom to retrieve his first aid kit and set his own finger in a splint. She could honestly say that seeing him do that was one of the freakiest things she’d ever seen. Not as bad as having her own son replaced with an evil, life sucking changeling, but pretty freaky nonetheless.

Dean refused to say another word on the “Sammy’s gone” comment, but did manage to explain to her that he really couldn’t go to the hospital because he technically died in a fiery explosion months ago. When he mentioned something about identity theft and how he wasn’t going to do that in her hometown, she finally conceded the point.

It was a discussion that put a whole lot of things in perspective. Lisa was a bright enough light bulb to figure out that dead men can’t work, and they certainly can’t get married. There was the option of fake identification, and it seemed that Dean fully intended to pursue that, but there were going to be issues there as well.

Enough people in town knew him and his real name. Certainly all of Ben’s friends knew the hero that was Dean Winchester, and Lisa had done a bit of bragging to her friends as well. That basically handicapped Dean’s chances of getting a really good set of fake identification papers. They were, as he put it, damned lucky that nobody had ever figured out that Lisa’s Dean Winchester was the same one that was wanted by the federal government.

For all that, Lisa encouraged him to stay, and to her utter amazement, he did. He took Ben to practice and watched him play all his sports. Dean started fixing Mrs. Gordon’s back yard fence in exchange for cooking lessons. He tuned up Lisa’s car. He painted Mr. Elder’s house for cash. He mowed lawns. He shoveled driveways, and when Ben freaked out on her one day about how he was just one big mistake that she probably regretted, Dean was the one who took him aside and explained the facts of life to her son.

Of course, those facts of life seemed to involve a demon, ceiling fires and somebody called Chuck, but Ben wouldn’t tell Lisa anything more than that, and Dean was a damn sphinx when it came to discussing anything that he wasn’t of a mind to discuss.

There were oddities in Dean’s behavior just like anybody else’s. When he redid the trim on the house, he spent ages on the internet looking at the chemical compositions of different paints. When he finally settled on one, he brought home gallons of the stuff, empty buckets and more salt than she’d ever seen. Her trim ended up sparkling. She would’ve complained except for the fact that so did Dean, and it was the first time that he smiled since he’d shown back up on her doorstep.

He stripped and varnished her floors without her even hinting about it. Just up and did it one weekend when she was a parent volunteer on a fieldtrip that Ben’s class was taking. It was sweet and thoughtful, so she didn’t mention that the coating wasn’t quite even. When the light hit the entryways at certain angles, it looked like there were symbols in a circle. She figured that he’d tried to put down extra varnish in high traffic areas but ran out and tried to be artsy instead.

Dean was incredibly antisocial, and she tried to understand that. Ben certainly did. He never said a word when Dean hid in the shadow of a tree instead of sitting up on the bleachers like Lisa and the other parents did, and he didn’t whine when Dean sat in the far back of the school theater to watch the school play instead of sitting right up front with a video camera.

Lisa sometimes wondered if her son was a better person than she was, because it bugged her when Dean didn’t want to go out at night with her. It wasn’t that he ever refused, but when they went out to eat, he’d sit with his back against the wall, and give these half aborted grins at the waitress that just looked painful.

She thought that maybe it was just her. As far as she could tell, this was Dean’s first long term relationship. He had to have been feeling out of his depth with having to continue to find new topics of information. So she took him out on a double date with her friend Sally and her husband John.

They went to a nice country bar on the outskirts of town that served all you can eat ribs and chicken on Friday nights. They had a great time while John told story after story about his dart league, and his championship pool trophy.

Granted, Dean’s amusement seemed a bit more sarcastic in nature, but Lisa had just been relieved to see him look relaxed. It hadn’t occurred to her at the time that it wasn’t the company that they were with. She had honestly thought that Dean had just hit it off with John and Sally.

They went out on a few more couple’s dates together, and she could’ve sworn that Dean was getting more relaxed. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that he was fixed by any means, but he was better.

That was when all hell broke loose. Or not, as Ben told her that technically hell broke loose like, ages ago, but that Sam Winchester put the devil back in the box, so it was all okay now. Which was a concern about what movies Dean was letting Ben watch, but she figured that was a conversation she could put off for a little while at least.

Sally had called and cajoled them into celebrating John’s new promotion, so they’d gone out to what Lisa was starting to think of as their place. It wasn’t Friday, but that was okay because Dean had developed a fascination with the raspberry inferno chicken wings. He could finish the five pound platter all by himself, and there were times that his eyes would glaze over when he took his first bite. It was the same expression that Dean got when you finally let his erection out of his jeans. Not that Lisa had seen much of that since he’d shown up again. Whatever had happened was bad enough to put a serious dent in Dean’s libido.

Truthfully? Lisa was a bit jealous of the damn chicken wings.

In any case, they’d been having a good time. Sally had been talking about getting a new car, John about getting a new set of golf clubs, and Dean had been giving oral sex to his chicken wings. Then John had offhandedly mentioned something about how he was going to be able to send Samantha off to Stanford after all. That extra income was going to push her college fund right up to where it needed to be. 

Dean had choked a little during the announcement, but had seemed fine as he washed the stray chicken down with the last of his beer. He’d shot a weak grin in their direction and made vague ‘go ahead’ gestures with his hands as he flagged down the waitress to order another drink.

Lisa had smiled and expressed her happiness for them and asked if Sammie knew what she was going to study out there. She didn’t hear Dean change his order from beer to whiskey when Sally said that Sammie wanted to be a lawyer. She also didn’t notice that Dean didn’t finish his chicken wings or that he did finish off a few too many drinks.

What she did notice was that somewhere in between discussing gardening tips for roses and what kind of car Sally should buy with John’s new promotion money, Dean excused himself to go to the bathroom and never came back.

 After waiting for another fifteen minutes, John volunteered to go find him. Thirty minutes after that, a chagrinned John wandered back to the table with Dean in tow.

Dean was sporting a very nice watch on his wrist, a red silk tie around his neck, and an eel skin wallet was swinging from his fingers. He was grinning like a lunatic, and there was no doubt in anybody’s mind that he was plastered. He also had managed to beat John at darts with one eye closed, and his good hand tied behind his back.

He gave everything back, but Sally wouldn’t speak to Lisa for a month.

John called the next day and asked if Dean wanted to join the dart league.

It was their first fight, or more directly, it was the first time that Lisa yelled and swore at Dean while he just sort of stared at her blankly. He didn’t get upset. He didn’t try to defend himself. He just looked at her like he had no idea why she was upset with him. After a while she’d just given up. Her neighbor growing up had a dog that had looked at her that way, but poor Mr. Snorkles had almost been drowned as a puppy and was a bit slow in the head. Dean didn’t have that excuse.

Thinking of Mr. Snorkles reminded Lisa that even though Dean didn’t seem to get it, she could at least punish him. So she banned him from sleeping in the bedroom.

He didn’t sleep on the couch. No. When she went to go fetch him for breakfast the next morning, she found him curled up in the passenger’s seat of his car, face pressed against the leather, fingers twisted around the seatbelt. He wouldn’t look at her when he got out of the car, but she saw him rub at his cheeks as he followed her into the house. It was what Ben did after he’d been crying, and somehow she knew right then and there that Dean was never going to tell her what was really wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean Winchester was a big, fat loser. He’d first been told this by a certain Walter Williams in second grade. Walter ended up with a big, fat smiley face on the back of his shirt courtesy of Dean’s limited artistic skills and the blueberry scented magic marker that the school provided for ‘underprivileged’ students like Dean who couldn’t afford their own art supplies.

Still Walter was kind of right. Dean couldn’t hold on to anything he wanted worth shit, so there was one level of losing right there. Then there was the whole not being able to keep his promise to his not-dead-but-being-tortured-for-eternity brother. Find Lisa. Apple pie life. It looked like a pretty solid plan as far as their plans ever went.

It was certainly better than their apocalypse stopping ones, and those had eventually worked – sort of – if you didn’t count the whole part where both of Dean’s brothers were currently trapped in hell for all eternity being angel condoms.

On his best days, Dean likes to console himself with the fact that he at least hadn’t broken his promise to Sam about getting him out of the eternal clink of damnation.

 On his worse days, Dean likes to castigate himself that he should’ve found a way around his promise to Sam, or found another way to get the devil in the box, or found a way to get Satan to jump Adam’s bones instead of Sam’s. And yeah, that last thought? It always makes him feel as shitty as it sounds.

But the fact is that he didn’t do any of that because he is a loser. He is also crap at having meaningful relationships with women, and he knows it that is all his fault. Lisa is a great person. She’s a great mom. She’s a great employee. She’s just great.

Dean is, well, he’s just totally out of his depth. He would’ve found a way to just end it all months ago except for the fact that he knew where he was headed when he died, and living eternity without Sam was going to be a lot different than knowing that he was going to spend eternity without Sam.

Yeah, he’d get to relive his memories, but it wouldn’t be the same. Some day in the future, when he’s lived enough years without, maybe reliving physical, tangible memories of Sam will be worth it. Right now though, he knows that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the trees for the fact that he knows there isn’t going to be any damn forest.

 Oh God, he probably shouldn’t have drunk that last wine cooler if he’s starting to think in metaphors. That was always Sam’s job, and thinking anything remotely Sam related always seems to get him sleeping in the Impala overnight.

And, fuck, wine coolers? He’s a pathetic bunch of mush because he volunteered to man the barbecue at the animal shelter picnic, and he started in on the wine coolers because he fucking knows that Lisa is watching to make sure he doesn’t have too many beers. Dean Winchester though, doesn’t drink girly shit like wine coolers, so he can easily hide the fact that he’s been imbibing by leaving half drunk ones all over the place. Middleclass women seem to have some sort of code that doesn’t actually allow them to finish their drink, so his bottles blend in easily with their own.

Maybe that wasn’t what John Winchester had in mind when he taught Dean how to pickpocket and replace evidence, but somehow Dean can’t really bring himself to care about that. He doesn’t think that his father meant to train his sons to be neurotic enough to damn near end the world over each other either, but it happened.

Of course, John Winchester did manage to teach Dean how to be a good parent in a way. His father’s unusual parenting technique had forced dean to practically raise Sam, and while he’s pretty sure that means that some of Sam’s psychological issues can be laid directly at his feet, the fact remains that Sam actually beat off Lucifer and saved the world. On the whole, Dean thinks you’d call his brother a hero.

With the sink-or-swim parenting lessons of the past, Dean thinks he does an okay job of being a substitute dad to Ben. Lisa’s friends seem to think so, and Mrs. Rubens said that Ben’s overall grades had improved since Dean had moved in with them, so he’s going to chalk that one up to a win and let it be. That’s what apple pie people do, right?

And apple pie people totally get dogs, which is exactly what he told Lisa when his dog followed him home from the grocery store three weeks ago. It had been nice out, and all they’d needed was a thing of sour cream for the baked potatoes, so Dean had walked to the convenience store down the street to buy the overpriced stuff they had on hand instead of driving all the way over to the grocery store.

He was in the process of walking back when he glanced down at the sidewalk to kick a stray rock out of the way and saw a big shadow behind him.

He had dropped the sack and gone for the silver knife he still always kept on him only to spin around and see this behemoth of a dog standing there. It was really freaking tall and gray in color. Its fur was short, but not smooth- wiry and coarse and sticking out in random patterns. One ear was sticking straight up in the air and the other kind of flopped over. And if Dean hadn’t seen its sides moving, he would’ve sworn that the dog wasn’t even breathing because it wasn’t making a sound.

He’d made shooing motions at it. He spilled his spare vial of holy water over it. He made loud ungodly noises at it. He smeared some of the sour cream on the blade of the knife so that the dog would lick it off.

Nothing made the dog go away, but Dean was reasonably assured that despite its sudden appearance and odd silence, it wasn’t some sort of hellhound-real dog crossbreed. If he was a lesser man, he’d be disturbed that he even thought that such a thing was possible, but he’d seen way too much in his life to not at least entertain the idea.

Of course, by the time that he’d tested the dog and determined that his fate was finally going be nice to him, Dean was running late for supper.

Dean didn’t exactly like being late for supper as food was one of the few pleasures left that he actually enjoyed, so he ran the rest of the way home. His new buddy kept up with ease, and Dean quickly decided that he was the best dog ever.

Lisa hadn’t been as impressed with the awesomeness of Dean’s new pet, and he’d spent the night in the Impala with his new best friend drooling in the backseat. And the next night. And the night after that.

It was around the fourth night that she let Dean back in the house with the stipulation that the dog go in the basement. And that Dean would have to take the dog in for shots, and take him on regular walks, and go down to the animal shelter to see if the beast had been reported missing.

She didn’t say anything, but Dean’s fairly certain that her acquiescence came more from the fact that she realized that sleeping out in the Impala wasn’t really a hardship on him than the fact that she wanted to actually make-up.

And, yeah, make-up sex? Highly overrated. It wasn’t bad. He’d just had better.

But the sex seemed to make Lisa feel better, and he got what he wanted, and it was kind of cool because he couldn’t really remember the last time that he’d gotten something he wanted with so little pain and suffering. He didn’t even bleed or have gut crushing angst for days on end.

The vet gave his dog a clean bill of health and gave him some tips on what and how to feed such a large animal. The pet store lady gave him the collar and leash free of charge when he went in and bought the dog bed, dog food and feeding station from her instead of going to the chain store down the road.

When he went to the animal shelter, they were very sure that nobody had come looking for a giant, grey dog, but they were more than happy to talk Dean into volunteering now that he had just adopted his first pet.

He was giddy enough at the knowledge that his dog was now well and truly his that he agreed. That agreement clearly led to the consumption of several half bottles of wine coolers, which is why he could be excused for not noticing a very familiar ball cap making its way through the crowd.

“You look like your dog just died.” Bobby said by way of greeting.

Dean felt his eyes fly open, and without his volition, they glanced quickly over to where Ben was playing with his dog. 

“Nah, looks like he’s still alive,” he responded easily as he turned the cheap hotdogs over on the grill.

“Nice kid. Nice girl. Ugly dog,” Bobby noted as he took a sip of Dean’s wine cooler. He promptly spit it out on the ground. “What is this?”

“Arbor Mist? They get better if you eat a polish right after. Want one?”

“I didn’t give my three bucks to the blind lady manning the table, and I’d hate to take away from a good cause.”

Dean sighed and dropped the last of his current batch of hot dogs in the warmer next to the grill before turning to actually look at Bobby.

“You aren’t here for a social visit. You would’ve called first, and you would’ve cleaned up if you were coming to meet the family.”

“That what they are now? Your family?”

Coming from anybody else, Dean would’ve bristled at the question. Hell, coming from Bobby in a slightly different tone he would’ve gotten pissed. But there was nothing but fact finding in his friend’s eyes. Not judgment or approval. Bobby knew better than anybody alive what the word ‘family’ meant to Dean. Well, anybody but Sam, but literally only God knew what sort of state Sam was in at this point.

“They’re… I promised Sam.” Dean finally said as he turned and put on some burgers when the lady taking the orders motioned at him.

“And the dog?”

“Is mine.”

“Figured. He’s got that stupid, stubborn look about him that Winchesters have.”

“You going to tell me why you’re here, or are you going to keep insulting my dog?”

“I’ve got a hunt you might be interested in.”

Dean turned around and stared at Bobby with incredulous eyes. He opened his mouth to spew… he didn’t know what. Something mean and nasty, but Bobby held up a hand to forestall him.

“I know that you promised Sam, and I know you’re trying real hard to make this whole normal thing work. But I also know that you’d kick my ass if I did this alone and didn’t tell you about it.”

“Yeah? I’m listening.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this here…” Bobby hedged as he glanced around.

“So you’d rather have this conversation back home where young, still somewhat innocent ears can hear, and my nagging girlfriend can put her two cents worth in?” Dean asked as he flipped the burger that he was cooking.

“All this domesticity has made you ornery.”

“Bobby, you’re stalling. Whatever it is just spit it out. ‘Cause this diplomatic thing you’re trying? It’s creeping me out.”

“Jessica Moore’s body went missing about a week ago. The grounds keeper was mowing the lawn when he came across a real big mound of dirt, a hole, and one very empty casket.”

Dean didn’t respond, but turned to flip the burgers off the grill and onto the cheap buns that they were serving them on.  He walked them over to the serving lady and walked slowly back to the grill to face Bobby. Problem was he wasn’t sure exactly what it was that he wanted to say.

“They’re calling it a grave robbery. I’m guessing she didn’t have a Lazarus pulled on her like you did, but it’s pretty suspicious.” Bobby continued as if Dean hadn’t just walked away from a pretty important topic of information.

“Yeah, and given Sam’s involvement with her and our rap sheets having grave desecration listed on them, this could turn ugly.” Dean outlined the problem in a flat voice because they both knew that the involvement of the federal government was the least of their concerns, but he didn’t really want to say what the other issues might be.

Plus, if the feds did start nosing around, it could bring all sorts of trouble down on Lisa’s head.

Bobby shrugged and scratched at the back of his hand. “Didn’t want to have to come right out and say that, but yeah.” The tone of his voice let Dean know that Bobby was acknowledging all of the unspoken dangers that Dean hadn’t mentioned.

“A few of months of normal life hasn’t made my brains leak out.” Dean snapped.

“You want some time to think about it?” Bobby asked, clearly ignoring Dean’s attitude.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say ‘no.’ Why would he need time to think about it? It was pretty damn clear to him that he needed to be involved. Then he noticed that Bobby’s gaze was settled on Lisa and her group of friends.

Dean shifted uncomfortably for a minute before saying, “I guess maybe I should talk to Lisa first about it.”

“Reckon so.”

“You want to come over tonight? We’ve got a guest bedroom thingy in the basement.”

“You sure that she’s going to want me to stay over? I’m not here to make trouble in your life, Dean. And normal women don’t just jump at the idea of some old scrap dealer dragging their lover off to certain danger.”

“Yeah? Well you’re my family, so if she has a problem with that, she can just deal with it.” Dean snarled as he slapped another burger on the grill.

He could feel Bobby stare at the back of his head for a long while, and he braced himself for the inevitable questions about how things were going, but all Bobby said was, “I suppose so.”

Dean tried not to be disappointed with that. Bobby, after all, wasn’t Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lisa tried not to cry when Dean explained the situation to her. Actually, she tried not to cry when Bobby Singer explained it to her because Dean didn’t really fill in much of the details - details like who Jessica Moore was, and why it was important that they go find out what happened to her body.

Listening to Bobby give the abbreviated version of why it was important was bad enough. She’d known that there were things about Dean’s life that she didn’t know. That was normal with any relationship as short as theirs had been. Given what she did know about his “job” before he came to live with her, she’d been able to at least fill in come of the blanks for herself.

That Dean’s mother had been burned alive on the ceiling of their house and that Sam’s girlfriend had died the same way? Those were the sort of things that she wouldn’t have thought. Lisa had never given any deep thought to how Dean had gotten into the whole hunting thing, and the only information that he had given her was that his father had taught him.

It turned out that Dean was much more of a master of understatement than Lisa had realized.

Dean had stalked out to supposedly take his dog for a walk sometime around Bobby’s brief description of how Dean had gone to take Sam away from Stanford when Jess was killed. Lisa wasn’t surprised by the action, and from the lack of surprise on Bobby’s face, she guessed he wasn’t either.

“Bobby,” she said once the front door shut, and she was certain that Dean was on his way down the block, “what happened to Sam?”

The color drained out of Bobby’s face and his eyes darted down to the tops of his dusty leather boots.

“Dean didn’t tell you?” He asked in a subdued voice.

“Just that he’s gone, but Dean hasn’t been… He won’t talk about it, and I’m worried. If whatever is going on has something to do with what happened to Sam, I’m not sure that it would be good for Dean.”

“I can’t say that it’ll be healthy for him, but I can tell you that there is nothing that’ll keep that boy away from this one. He might get hurt doing this. Hell, I’d be surprised if he didn’t, but he’ll die if he doesn’t do it. It isn’t my place to share Dean’s pain without his say so, but I can tell you that as long as it has some tie to Sam, he’s going to go.”

“Because of what happened to Sam?”

Bobby smirked a little at that. “No, it’s just always been that way with him. He’s been that way ever since I knew him, and I’ve known that boy a real long time.”

Lisa pursed her lips and gave a watery sigh. “I don’t like this. When he showed up at my door he… the last two times he came back to me he’s been broken. What if this just breaks him beyond repair? What if he can’t find his way back?”

Bobby leveled a stern glare at her and held it for a long moment before opening his mouth to reply, “This isn’t a fairy tale, and Dean Winchester isn’t Humpty Dumpty. He breaks. He mends. And no matter how much you might want it otherwise, he is always going to feel the need to be a goddamn hero. It’s best you know that now.”

Lisa felt a twin rush of embarrassment and anger flood her cheeks. “I know who Dean is, and I have a right to worry about the man that is my son’s father. They might not be blood related, but he’s Ben’s whole world.”

“I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be worried. I’d be a bit ashamed of you if you weren’t. But if you really knew Dean? You’d know that he’d drag himself back here bloody and half dead.”

“Because he’s a hero. I know.”

“Because he promised Sam.” Bobby corrected.

Lisa found that she didn’t quite know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything at all.

 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean grumbled under his breath as he dutifully followed Bobby’s truck into the wayside rest parking lot. They didn’t need to be stopping quite so much. It was slowing them down.

“You got an enlarged prostate or something, Bobby?” Dean called as he climbed out of the car.

“Just figured we could stretch our legs a bit. The trail is going to be cold when we get there anyway.”

“Stretch our… Bobby, I grew up in that car. If you think a couple of months worth of domestic life has made me incapable of driving, you’re clearly getting Alzheimer’s or something.”

“Not you, you idjit. The dog. They love car rides, but they need to stretch every once and a while. And, for the record, nearly a year is not just ‘a couple of months.’”

“Oh.” Dean mumbled as he looked at the ground. He hadn’t really thought about that while he was packing to go. The dog dishes and the extra kibble, sure. But he’d been preoccupied with getting out to Jess’s grave and promising Ben that he’d be back as soon as possible with stories and candy and with avoiding Lisa’s gaze entirely. He’d taken the dog on a crazy impulse. It had just felt wrong to leave him there.

Shuffling back to the Impala, Dean grabbed the leash out of the glove compartment and opened the back door to clip it onto his dog’s collar.

“You ever going to name him? Can’t rightly keep calling him ‘the dog’ the rest of his life.” Bobby commented as he came up alongside them and scratched behind the dog’s one upright ear.

Dean shrugged and walked over towards some bushes so that his dog could sniff and mark his territory so that some fluffy poodle could come by later and do the exact same thing. “Ben and I were trying to come up with names, but we weren’t having the best of luck with it. I thought about naming him after, well, Sam because he’s so big, but I think it’s kind of tacky.”

Bobby just grunted in response, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. It was nice to be able to mention something about Sam without getting the ‘do you want to talk about it’ line or the profound gaze of sympathy.

They walked in silence for a while before Dean opened his mouth again. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for this serious relationship stuff.”

Bobby stopped in his tracks and stared at Dean.

“What?”

“Wondering if I should go get the holy water and see if you’re possessed.”

“Oh, come on, you expect me to believe that you think I’m cut out to be a husband with two-point-five kids?”

“I expect you to never bring up those kinds of conversations without being severely beaten first. And then only when you’re so looped up on pain meds that you start waxing poetic about how great it is to be a big brother and how pretty the Impala looks in the moonlight.”

“That happened once, ONCE. I was seventeen and not used to drinking. And for the record? I was really fucking wrong. Being a big brother sucks.”

“It isn’t the big brother part that sucks, son. If it was, you’d be the only one hurtin’.”

There was a part of Dean that really wanted to respond to that with yelling and ranting. There was nobody that could feel the way that Dean did about what happened to Sam. But either Dean had matured, or Lisa had gentled him in some way, because he could still remember the empty bottles at Bobby’s place when he’d come back from hell.

“So I’m thinking ‘Gigantor.’”

“Come again?” Bobby’s confusion was plain in his voice.

“The dog. You know. It’s kind of a tribute, right?”

“You want to name your dog after your brother with a nick name that you used to mock said brother with?”

“You like ‘Sasquatch’ batter?”

“I like a good name better.”

“Dude, you named your dog ‘Rumsfeld.’” Dean pointed out.

“It was a political statement!” Bobby protested.

“Because you got so many neighbors coming over to visit your junk yard to discuss politics that you never watch?”

Bobby sighed. “Fine. How about ‘Moose’? It’s easier to spell on a license tab. And it’s easier to say.”

“I can’t name my dog that. It’ll hurt his feelings!” Dean protested.

 “Dean,” Bobby’s voice was laden with exasperation.

Dean just quirked an unrepentant eyebrow at him, “Come on Gigantor, we need to get back on the road.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That hunting was different without Sam was no surprise to Dean. He’d done it in the past.

What was a surprise was that there wasn’t a constant, gut wrenching pain whenever he turned to talk to his brother, and he wasn’t there. That was different from all the other times.

Whenever Sam had left, it had always been painful, never been easy. It wasn’t easy now, but it was oddly soothing to be on the road sussing out some evil scheme instead of fixing up the yard or running errands.

Dean supposed it was because hunting was what normal was to him. He’d only known differently for the first four years of his life, and for the first time he wondered what it was like for new hunters who got into the gig because something horrible had happened to them. His dad and Bobby had been those guys. The ones who had everything and then had it taken away.

Dean was the one living his life in reverse, but it sure didn’t feel like that.

Not that he’d been untouched by all the months living the normal life. He was, for one thing, more introspective than he used to be, but he still wasn’t sure if that was life with Lisa talking or just life without Sam. His brother had usually been the one to make him look inside. At first because of his pestering, emo ways then because things got so bad that Dean fell into the habit of always checking out his insides to make sure that he wasn’t going evil.

After all, if Sammy had been weak towards the evil mojo, then Dean might have the same proclivities too, especially after what he had done in Hell.

Dean had started trying to think of his introspection as the same thing as tuning up the Impala. He had to at least look her over once and a while, even if nothing seemed to be wrong upfront.

Not that thinking about it that way had really helped him out a whole lot. Turns out that being introspective is not mutually exclusive from suppression and denial, it just helps you realize that you are repressing and denying something. It doesn’t keep you from doing it.

Of course anybody with half a brain and a whisper of the story of Dean’s life would be able to guess the general topic of what he was repressing at the moment. He had a whole shit load of stuff inside his head that was labeled “Sam” in fluorescent orange letters.  If he was the type of guy that made excuses for himself, he’d say that he was on this hunt because it would help him deal with his issues about Sam.

Dean wasn’t that kind of guy though, and he had the gut feeling that whatever was waiting for him was just going to add to his Sam related problems, not alleviate them.

Five days into the hunt, he found out that his gut was right.

There wasn’t much at the grave site. Neither he nor Bobby had expected there to be.

The chat Bobby had with Jess’s parents yielded nothing more than another dosage of lingering guilt about their daughter’s death.

It turned out that they’d seen FBI postings when first Dean and then Sam became wanted men. Being the intelligent people that they were, they had quickly started blaming them both for killing their little angel.

But they knew that Dean and Sam were dead, and now they were worried that they’d misjudged the Winchester brothers. They were convinced that there was some horrible person out there that had pinned all sorts of horrible crimes on the boys, and that they’d just been running from that beast of a nameless person.

That person that had framed the Winchester boys for grave desecration and murder was the same person that had taken their daughter from her final resting place. As far as they were concerned, it fit the pattern nicely.

As far as Dean was concerned, they watched too much television, but it was nice to be sort of forgiven. Even though he hadn’t done a damn thing to Jess, she had been a pawn in some horrible game that destiny had been playing with the Winchesters. Looking at it that way, the crazed psycho theory her parents had wasn’t too far off. They were just missing a few demonic details.

Because it was a little obvious that he was a walking dead man, Dean didn’t go with Bobby to talk to Jess’s parents. Instead he went to the local police department to dig through the official reports for anything that could give them a lead.

There was nothing.

“So basically we have a missing body, and the only possible clue we have is a theory from her parents that we know is wrong.” Dean recapped as they sat at the crappy table the motel room provided.

 Gigantor was sprawled out at Dean’s feet. There was a clearly posted “No Pets Allowed” sign at the front of the motel, but given the ugly color of the carpet and the general stench in the room, Dean wasn’t so sure that it wouldn’t be improved by a puddle of dog piss.

“You forgot to add that we have that pleasant, sinking feeling of impending doom. We have that too.” Bobby reminded him.

Dean shrugged and reached down to scratch at his dog’s ears for a moment before leaning back in his chair and slapping his hands against his thighs. “I should probably call Lisa, let her know… hell, what do I let her know? That I’m okay? That the job isn’t going so great and might take longer than I thought? I wasn’t even sure how long I thought this was going to take to begin with.”

“You tell her that you miss her and love her, and you’ll be home as soon as you can.” Bobby’s voice was a mixture of exasperation and fondness. Dean got the distinct impression that Bobby thought he was clueless. Then again, he pretty much was.

He nodded in agreement, but his hand paused on its way to his phone. “Bobby?”

“Yeah?”

“What if I, you know, I… Never mind.”

“What if you don’t what?”

“Love her.” Dean blurted out, and he wasn’t sure which face looked more shocked by the question: his reflection in the darkened motel window, or the one coming off the overly shiny and tacky brass lamp ion the table.

Bobby certainly wasn’t looking very surprised.

“If you were anybody else, I’d tell you that questioning that is normal.”

“But?”

“But you’re a stubborn cuss who would never even hint at not knowing. You’d cut your own tongue out rather than ask questions like that. Which basically convinces me that you already know the answer.”

“She makes me happy.” Dean snapped as if he was defending Lisa’s honor.

“No, son, she makes you comfortable. She’s a great woman, and given a few more months, you’d probably be able to convince yourself that you’re in love with her. But that isn’t really what it means to be in love with somebody.”

Dean’s eyes flashed irritation, and Gigantor whined in sympathy to his master’s irritation. “Yeah, well last I looked I wasn’t exactly getting offers for the dream of a lifetime. Maybe I’m happy with comfortable.”

Bobby didn’t respond to that, but then again he didn’t need to. Dean had known him long enough to see the disagreement in his eyes.

“I’m just going to, going to go… call her and see how Ben is doing.” Dean said as he shoved his chair away from the table. The dog got up as if to follow him, but he waved him away with irritation. The last thing he needed was to have the manager see Dean outside with a forbidden animal while he was busy having a conversation with his girlfriend that he didn’t want to have.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Dean came back into the room, Bobby’s eyes met his for a bare second before skittering away. Dean knew better than to interpret that behavior as avoidance. He might be family, but Bobby wasn’t a Winchester. He could lie like a rug, but he didn’t avoid anything. It wasn’t his style, and he sucked at it when he tried.

As for letting a subject drop? Bobby didn’t do that either except when there was impending doom. And while the grave robbery certainly indicated that peril was close at hand, there wasn’t anything to actually do, and neither of them were going to be facing their own mortality within the next hour or so unless one of them decided to actively try to commit suicide.

“How’d it go?” Bobby asked quietly, his eyes still not coming up to meet Dean’s.

“Great. She’s worried out of her mind, and Ben is acting out. She wants to know what is so horrible about this case that I’m hiding from her, and she’s wondering why I can’t trust her. Somehow ‘I started the apocalypse, and my brother sacrificed himself to the devil to stop it,’ just wouldn’t roll off my tongue. How about you?”

Bobby shifted in his chair and looked down at the carpet.

“Bobby?”

“I may have placed a call of my own.” Bobby mumbled.

“And?”

“It’s just… We’re at a dead end, and you’ve got a life to be living. And whatever this is? It ain’t good, so we best be stopping it now. Right?”

“You didn’t do something stupid, did you?”

“No! I’m not you. There are limits to the kind of trouble I can get into in a seedy motel room.” Bobby protested.

“So what exactly did you do?”

“He called me.” Crowley announced as he opened the door and came into the room. “I’d have come in sooner, but these walls are so thin, and I love to make a dramatic entrance.”

Dean whirled around to stare at the not so welcome newcomer. “Is that a bouquet?”

Crowley smiled at him. “Indeed it is. It’s been so long since I saw Bobby that I thought a little gift would be in order. He was quite put out with me the last time I saw him, so I figured that repentance roses were in order.”

Dean watched as Crowley walked around him to place the flowers down on the table. Gigantor growled at him as he passed.

“Nice dog.”Crowley commented with complete insincerity.

Dean shot him a fake smile. “You want to tell me why you’re bringing Bobby flowers? Or, you know, tell me why the hell you’re here at all?”

“Oh, well, he called me. I have to say I was surprised. After our last meeting, I thought he was through with me, but obviously my sparkling personality must’ve won him over.”

“Oh Lord.” Bobby muttered as he grabbed the bouquet off the table, stood up, and walked over to the trash can to dispose of it.

“Always playing hard to get,” Crowley said when Bobby turned from the trash can to aim a level stare at him.

“Hey! Not to interrupt the very uncomfortable vibe you’ve got going there, but I asked a question that I’d like an answer to.” Dean reminded them.

“Your surrogate father figure here called me about a little situation that the two of you are looking into. I thought that it was just his way of trying to get back together, but it looks like I was mistaken. Those were expensive roses, by the way, very expensive.”

“I liked the shotgun better.” Bobby snapped.

“Shot gun?” Dean hoped that he didn’t sound as confused as he really was.

“A few months after you split, Crowley here remembers that he forgot to return my soul. So he decides to show up while I’m helping Rufus out with a multiple haunting in New Jersey…”

“He’s not good enough for you. And he isn’t very good looking either. You need somebody more refined.” Crowley interrupted.

Bobby glared and turned to face Dean. “This yahoo seems to think that me and Rufus are… together.”

“Crowley thinks you’re butt buddies with Rufus? Seriously?”

“I’ve been alive, well maybe not alive exactly, but I’ve been around a lot longer than you have. I know when humans are looking for love in all the wrong places. So far my efforts to woo Mr. Singer have been unsuccessful. But what can I say? If Bobby’s got a little flame for old Rufus, well, hope springs eternal.”

“It ain’t hope; it’s deluded thinking! And no means no!” Bobby retorted hotly.

“‘No’ to a demon means take by force or keep trying until you wear down their resistance to get what you want. I think it’s a very good indication of my overall quality of character that I’m going with the second option.” Crowley rebutted with an almost shy smile.

Dean tried not to throw up a little in his mouth. “Okay. First of all? Ewww. Second of all, how about you help us out with what Bobby called you about?”

“I’ll have you know that your treatment of me doesn’t exactly make me want to help you, but the nature of your issue does pose some threat to me, so I’m willing to help.”

“So?”

“So I want you to know that I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I can’t have the rest of the demons thinking I’m getting soft on humans, especially anybody having anything to do with the Winchesters.”

Dean privately thought that trying to get in Bobby’s pants by buying him flowers might be sending that message anyway, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue with a demon.

“Things have been rather chaotic in Hell lately. Since your brother managed to lock Lucifer back in the cage, there have been incessant riots and power struggles.”

“Sounds like business as usual to me.” Dean said with his best unimpressed expression plastered to his face.

“Oh, but it isn’t. See in your foolish and horribly mangled race towards your destiny, you and your brother managed to kill off major players. No more Lilith. No more Azazel. You even did away with old Alistair. It wasn’t such a big deal when Satan was topside giving away get out of Hell passes like candy at a parade, but now that he isn’t? Getting out of there is back to being tricky again, so that makes the pecking order down there that much more important.”

“So what does that have to do with Jess’s body?”

“You’re joking, right?” Crowley asked as his gaze darted from Dean to Bobby and back to Dean. “Your brother dragged Michael down there with him. The apocalypse might have been averted up here, but down there Armageddon is in full swing. Lucifer isn’t giving his blessing out to any of his sycophants because he’s too busy trying to blast Michael into pixie dust. But Sam got him down there by taking over. Sam’s approval might not be as good, but it would still go a very long way towards getting voted in as Hell’s next top demon.”

“That ain’t good.” Bobby stated. Dean figured it was more to annoy Crowley than to state the obvious. The demon had obviously been gearing up to have a stunned, moment of silence at the end of his revelation.

“I’ve taken the liberty of Google mapping the directions from this lovely abode to the location where they took Jessica Moore’s body. I’d have just told you the location, but I know that losing Sam has decreased your mental capacity significantly, and your looks are starting to fade.” Crowley said as he handed over a piece of paper to Dean. The demon swept his eyes over Dean’s body in what Dean assumed was supposed to be a critical stare.

Frowning, Dean snatched the directions away and looked down at them. “Did you draw a heart on this?”

“Just a token of my undying affection. I’d go with you, but I really don’t need to be involved in any turf wars.”

With that, Crowley disappeared.

“Nice stalker you’ve got there, Bobby.”

“Shut up. At least he gave me my soul back. I didn’t need to go calling Castiel for help.”

“Not like he would’ve answered. Too busy playing archangel to hang with us mortals these days,” Dean said with an edge of bitterness in his voice.

Bobby didn’t answer that one. He just grabbed his bag and headed out to his vehicle.

~~~~~~~

Dean wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to find. He knew on a basic level that it was going to be bad. And he also knew that whatever it was that he had been expecting, it wasn’t what he found.

Then again, that was kind of a given. He couldn’t remember the last hunt that he’d gone on that didn’t have some disturbing twist or uniquely terrifying surprise.

But, yeah, most of his brother’s ex-girlfriends chained to a basement wall in various states of decomposition? That was gruesome and nasty and just plain not what he’d imagined. From the choked back sound that Bobby had made, he hadn’t been expecting it either.

The knowledge made Dean feel a little bit better because he really did love company for his misery.

“At least the demons went down easy,” Dean forced out as he tried not to breathe through his nose.

“Oh, yeah, real blessing that.” Bobby grunted.

The stench was bad. No wonder Gigantor had refused to come into the house with them. Dean felt oddly reassured by that realization. He’d been worried that his dog was some sort of canine pacifist or a wuss or something.

“Oh, God,” a soft whimper attracted Dean’s attention over to the dark, far back corner of the room.

In ye olden days, he would’ve instantly known to look there because that was always the place that had the most interesting stuff in a creepy basement.

Interesting meaning a really gross substance, a cherubic child, a hot chick, or some random piece of evil luring you to your doom - you could never really tell.

Bobby started moving towards the sound first leaving Dean to play backup. As the whole place was littered with corpses, it was a really nasty job because it basically left him with sweeping his gun and his flashlight back and forth over the decomposing faces of women his brother had fucked. It was not good.

It was also humiliating because as highly as Dean thinks of Bobby, Dean knows that he is the superior hunter. Even without Sam, his field skills and youth far outstrip Bobby’s. If he’d been on his game, he’d have made certain that he was the one on point, taking one the brunt of the danger.

Not that Bobby didn’t have skills that outstripped Dean’s, but book knowledge was a different subject. Dean had never truly been a slouch with that. He just never liked it is all, and he does so much better when he likes or loves something. He also does a great job when the world is ending.

Feminine shrieking made Dean hustle faster towards Bobby’s location. Of all the hunters Dean had ever met, Bobby was the best with calming down scared women. He and Sam were ironically both too big and too good looking. They were cut from their father’s cloth. They were meant to be heroes.

Bobby was all comfort with his rounded features and kindly eyes. Most people never realized that his appearance masked an uncanny ability to kill in a myriad of inventive ways.

“No, please, God no.” The girl was crying and whimpering even as Bobby tried to calm her down.

“Bobby?” Dean asked as he turned and put one shoulder against the wall so that he could face back the way that they had come.

“I tried to get her to take a sip of water, and she went nuts on me.”

Dean almost, almost asked why he was trying to give her water while they were still in the basement instead of at least waiting until they were out in one of the vehicles, but he caught himself before the words started to come out of his mouth.

Bobby was trying to give her holy water to make sure she wasn’t possessed or some other sort of evil. It was another one of those things that he would have known instantly not that long ago. He wouldn’t have even had to contemplate it.

“Dean?” The woman’s voice cracked, and he turned to look at her.

Her hair was matted to one side of her face, and her arms were strung up tight above her head. Her jaw line was purpled and swelling, but he could still make out her features well enough to recognize that it was Jess. He wasn’t sure whether he felt happy that they had found her in time to rescue her or feel bad that she’d had to suffer again because of the Winchesters.

He decided that stuffing down and ignoring both options was the best choice.

“Hey, there,” Dean said softly as he crouched down to look her in the eye. Without a word or even a significant glance, Bobby stood and turned to cover the room, effectively swapping not only positions, but roles with the younger hunter.

“Oh, God. Is it really you?” She asked, her eyes not tearing up so much as just plain leaking.

“Not God, no,” Dean replied because his default setting for a tough situation was smart ass, and he’d never been good at dealing with Sam’s women.

 Pushing his brother to get one? That was his job as the older brother.

Actually talking to them was a completely different subject. He always felt uncomfortable around them. He wanted to beg them to get Sam laid and not break his heart, but he also wanted to threaten them within an inch of their lives if they thought about taking Sam away from him.

All of his issues were moot points now, but that wasn’t keeping his instincts from firing up.

“It is you.” Jess whispered, and Dean was forced to drag his focus away from his own feelings and back to the apparent damsel in distress. All that domestic living was eroding his hunting skills.

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, look. I’ve got to get you out of those… manacles, but you need to take a drink of that stuff that Bobby was trying to give you. It’ll, uh, give you some protection against the people that did this to you.”

Jess stared at him like he had grown another head for a moment. “You mean the demons?”

Okay, so Dean forgot on occasion that Jessica had also been going to Stanford which meant that she had to be smart and not your typical blonde bimbo trying to marry a future doctor or lawyer.

“That would be a yes.” Dean answered with a little grin that Lisa had told him was boyish.

Jess shot a distrusting look over at Bobby, but she nodded her head in acceptance. Dean wanted to smack her in the head for trusting him because she had no more proof that he wasn’t just as evil as she apparently thought Bobby was. One short, late night meeting a very long time ago that happened right before her very supernatural demise shouldn’t exactly inspire trust.

But her willingness to trust got her to drink the holy water, and when Dean “accidentally” nicked her wrists with his silver knife while picking the locks to her cuffs, she didn’t hiss, smoke or do anything other than grunt at the pain. She also didn’t look up enough to realize that Dean hadn’t hit her with any implement that was actually used in picking a lock.

Jess couldn’t stand up under her own power when her bindings finally let her loose from the wall, so Dean had to hold his breath again as he wrapped his arms around her filthy body and hoisted her to her feet.

As Bobby helped him drag the love of his brother’s life out of the basement of the damned, Dean was sad to say that he felt better than he had in months.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Lisa was pretty sure that she was crazy. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting to hear when Dean finally called her again, but something about an injured ex-girlfriend, and having to find a safe place to store her wasn’t one of the first scenarios she had dreamed up.

Dean had been making noises about being gone longer than expected and something about a drive to North Dakota and a panic room when Lisa had told him to bring the girl home. The instant that the words left her mouth, she was fairly certain that she was possessed. The only thing that reassured her that she wasn’t was that Dean would know if she was.

It was a cold comfort given the way that Dean had been acting ever since… well ever since she’d seen him the second time in her life when he’d first met Ben.

Still, Lisa liked to think of herself as a caring woman, and though she had never met this Bobby that Dean kept mentioning, she highly doubted that he was any better at helping people cope than Dean was. Given the kind of things she actually knew Dean did, let alone what her imagination came up with, she figured that the ex-girlfriend could use some real emotional support.

When the rumble of Dean’s engine announced that he was back from wherever the hell he had been, Ben ran out to meet him before Lisa could grab a hold of him and make him wait. Her son bounded back in a moment later with Dean’s horse, err _dog_ in tow mumbling something about playing with him in the backyard because Dean said he could.

It was getting dark out, but Lisa figured that she could bend her rules a little bit given that she was fairly certain that she wasn’t going to want Ben overhearing the conversations that were about to take place.

She tried very hard not to gasp when Dean carried a tall blonde in. The poor girl looked horrible, but Dean… Dean looked more animated than he had since he’d come to live with her. He didn’t look happy. He didn’t look anywhere near good, but he looked like he had a purpose.

She motioned for him to put the girl down on the living room sofa while she introduced herself to Bobby.

It all went downhill from there.

The first thing that Lisa found out was that the girl’s name was Jessica. The second thing was that she had been Sam’s girlfriend and not Dean’s. That was the last thing that Lisa fully comprehended about the conversation because it devolved into death and heaven and angels and demons and…

Okay there was a part where Jess had been ripped out of heaven and back into her body. Then she’d been chained up with a bunch of other women that Dean’s brother used to be in relationships with or had fucked or possibly had just been innocent baristas that Sam had smiled at. There were a lot of chicks, and Dean, Jess, and Bobby were pretty adamant that Sam hadn’t slept with all of them.

Lisa wasn’t so sure about that, but Bobby said, “Sam wasn’t Dean,” and Lisa took him at his word because it seemed to be a trivial thing to fight about with all of the other craziness being discussed.

So Jess had been imprisoned in a room where she and the other women were force fed something called demon blood and one by one her compatriots either died horrible deaths or went crazy then died horrible deaths. The last girl, Madison, Jess thought her name was, had died earlier the day that Bobby and Dean had come to the rescue.

The girl had not gone peacefully, and Jess had been pretty much resigned to having the same fate.

Offering coffee and oatmeal cookies might not have been the appropriate thing to do at that juncture, but it was the only thing that Lisa could think of, and they all looked like they wanted the reprieve.

She sent Ben to bed after letting him have his own cookie and let him take Dean’s dog with him. Normally she insisted that the dog sleep either on the living room floor or down in the basement, but Jessica’s story had unnerved her enough that she felt the need to protect her child. Logically, she couldn’t do that – not against the things that Jess was talking about anyway, but it felt good to know that there was a protector in Ben’s bedroom even if it was just a canine.

When Lisa came back out towards the living room, she overheard Jess talking about all of the questions that her captors had asked her and all of the barely heard conversations that they had tried to shield from her and her fellow prisoners. Jess said that she hadnever seen most of them, but there were more than the ones that Dean and Bobby had killed.

Lisa stopped a foot shy of the entryway to the living room. She felt vaguely guilty eavesdropping in on a conversation in her own home, but there wasn’t anything for it. Dean had been censoring himself around her, and his friend Bobby hadn’t been any better. It was like some pact that they had made. She wasn’t paranoid enough about it to actually believe that they had discussed keeping information from her, but that was the end result of what they were doing.

It was like some odd form of chivalry that they had come up with. Instead of opening doors and pulling out chairs, they quieted their conversations and gave her strained, tight smiles when she walked in on them talking about otherworldly phenomena.

They weren’t censoring their talk with just Jessica in the room, and Lisa could honestly see why as she stood in the shadows of her home listening to the things they were speaking about.

Hell wasn’t a place that she’d ever truly thought of in particularly graphic terms. It wasn’t as if she’d never had a thought about it. What had happened to Ben had pretty much ensured that she reevaluate her stances on certain things, but something in her brain had kept her from completely realizing the very real nature of it.

But protecting the innocents from the nature of evil apparently didn’t extend to innocents who had been dragged out of heaven especially when said innocent had been involved with the man who sent Lucifer back to Hell.

It wasn’t something that Lisa wanted to know. In that moment, she wanted to take back every whispered prayer that she had made about Dean letting her in. She wanted to take back every prod she’d ever made at him to talk about Sam because the knowledge that she was getting now was sending chills down her spine.

Dean and Sam had literally saved the world, and it sounded like evil wanted its payback for that.

Before the story got any worse, Lisa forced herself to pop back into the living room and interrupt the conversation. She didn’t want to know anything more. She didn’t want to hear about what the Winchester men had done for humanity because it was just going to make her feel worse.

She already knew what she was going to do, and even as she said her goodnights and crawled into her bed, she hated herself just a little bit.

It wouldn’t be long until whatever those bastards wanted would lead them to Dean’s doorstep, and Lisa couldn’t let that doorstep be hers. Her job as a mother was to protect Ben. If she didn’t have him, if it was just her, it would be different. But that wasn’t the case.

She didn’t sleep that night, but feigned it well enough when Dean slid into the bed next to her at some ungodly hour of the morning. She let him curl around her for warmth, and she cried silently as he drifted off to sleep.

She held a hero in her arms, and she was going to kick him to the curb. It made her the worst sort of lover, but she had to choose being a good mother over that.

The bitch of it all was that she really had been starting to fall in love with Dean Winchester.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Lisa kicked him out the next morning, Dean felt like he should be sad. He felt like he should be angry, but the hell of it all was that all he felt was pride. He was proud of Lisa, and even maybe loved her a tiny bit for putting her son first.

She was doing what John Winchester should have done. She was being the mother to Ben that Sam had deserved, and Dean had wanted back ever since his own mother had died.

It was then that he realized that he was either too selfless for his own good, or he maybe wasn’t in love with her enough to feel betrayed.

Sam would’ve been disappointed, but then again, Sam usually didn’t have a hard time finding something to be disappointed with Dean about.

Ben was devastated when he heard the news, and Bobby stayed in the kitchen to help counsel Lisa about dealing with stubborn fools of boys while Dean packed.

“I’m sorry.” Jess’s soft whisper broke into Dean’s train of thought as he methodically rolled his shirts into tight rolls that would pack better in his duffle bag.

“For what?” Dean responded without looking over at her. Her skin color had been getting consistently more pallid, and she’d started to have occasional spikes in temperature. It was the demon blood fucking with her system, and Dean really didn’t want to see the reactions that she was having because it was just a reminder that Sam had never had those reactions.

Sam had had withdrawals, and cravings, but all that demon blood had ever done to him was make him strong and reckless. It hadn’t made him look like he was on death’s door until he’d come pretty far down off the high that it gave him.

“That your girlfriend is leaving you, or I guess kicking you out, because of all this.” Jess explained.

“Not your fault.” Dean grunted as he chased after a runaway pair of balled up socks.

“No, it isn’t, but it’s something that you say when you feel bad for another person, and you can’t help them.” Jess told him softly.

Dean glanced at her at that, and she shot him a tiny, gentle smile before continuing, “Sam used to think that he could fix anything, you know? I used to have to tell him that it was okay. He couldn’t fix the whole world’s problems. Guess he showed me, huh?”

“Jess…”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “No, no. Don’t. You were right when you told me that I was out of your brother’s league. I was nowhere near good enough of a girlfriend for the man that saved the world, and I’m not going to start accepting apologies from his brother because you’d have done the same thing had you been in his shoes.”

Dean frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do. You know when we first got together, when Sam first started spending nights with me, he’d have these nightmares sometimes. He’d always wake himself up from them, and he’d call out for you. He’d look around the room for a minute until he wasn’t confused about where he was at anymore. I guess he was always looking for you.”

Dean just stared at her in response because he wasn’t going there. He needed to keep it together and discussing his damn feelings about not being able to save Sam, about not being around when Sam needed him… that wasn’t going to help anything.

Jess just smiled and shrugged and picked up a pair of Dean’s socks to roll into a tight, economical ball mimicking the ones he’d just been hunting. “Sam used to put away his socks like that. It took me forever to convince him that they didn’t need to be crammed together that way.” She explained as she tossed the socks at Dean.

He caught the ball reflexively, but just stared at it in his hand instead of tossing it into his duffle bag. He didn’t understand what Jess was doing. Attempting to bond with him? Trying to make him feel better? He was pretty sure that she wasn’t trying to flirt with him, but he didn’t get the whole not mad at him because his brother got her killed thing.

“Dean, I… God you’re even more screwed in the head than Sam was, aren’t you? It’s called kindness.” Jess stated firmly, or as firmly as she could given that her forehead was already starting to look clammy with what Dean assumed was a bout of withdrawal from the demon blood that she’d been fed, or maybe it was just another reaction from her body trying to reject it. Hell, maybe it was just the shock of being alive again, being tortured, and then having to watch other women go crazy and die right in front of her.

In other circumstances, Dean would be mad at her for calling him or Sam messed up even if it was true. He would still be mad at her with it being true if not for the fact that despite her suspiciously forgiving attitude, she had already died once because of his family, and she had been dragged out of Heaven, and she was eventually going to have to die again because of Sam.

At least, he had to assume that the whole thing revolved around Sam in some fashion. The basement full of dead girlfriends was a honking big neon sign pointing in that direction.

“Yeah,” he finally grunted noncommittally when he realized that she was still looking at him like she expected a response of some sort.

She gave up on talking to him after that, but she didn’t leave him alone.

After the tearful goodbyes were said, Jess didn’t pile into Bobby’s truck, but slid herself right into the passenger’s seat of the Impala. Sam’s seat. If it were anybody else, Dean would’ve made her get out.

 He almost did make her get out. But she flashed him another tiny smile, and he found that he couldn’t do it. This was the woman his Sam was going to marry. This was the woman that Sam had loved enough that it had driven him back into hunting. This was a woman whose life had been destroyed for the pure purpose of ensuring the Winchester destiny.

 She’d earned her right to sit in the passenger’s seat.

Gigantor though, Dean was going to have to have a talk with his mutt about drooling on the backseats.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They didn’t talk much on the way to wherever they were going, but by the time that Dean grunted something about getting close to their destination, Jessica was sure that she’d already heard more cock rock than she’d ever heard in her previous life time.

Sam had failed to mention that his brother’s taste in music was so… specific. Then again, Sam had pretty much failed to mention several pertinent facts about his family and his life, so Jess really shouldn’t be surprised by the music thing. She supposed that it was just something she could fixate on without feeling guilty.

She had tried to ask where they were headed, but all that she’d gotten was that they were going to Bobby’s place. Which, okay, she knew that Bobby was the older gentleman that had helped Dean rescue her, but there was a hell of a lot of information missing beyond that. She wondered if Dean thought that she could learn things through osmosis, or if he really was just that much of a jerk that he didn’t care to enlighten her on anything.

If she didn’t feel so horrible, she might have tried to talk to Dean during their trip. She might have tried to turn down the music and ask some more questions, but her insides were oscillating between feeling like they were frozen and feeling like they were on fire. Jess was half afraid that if she were to split open her abdomen, her guts would look like the steak that the frat boys had tried to make Sam eat that one time- charred to a crisp on the outside, but bloody and frozen solid in the middle.

Truth be told, she was also kind of contemplating the fact that her abdomen might just split open by themselves to give evidence to her charred, frozen steak theory.

Eventually, they pulled off the highways and started taking increasingly country roads until they pulled into what appeared to be a rundown scrap yard of some sort. Jess assumed that meant they were at Bobby’s place, and she revised her opinion of Dean’s silence. He obviously hadn’t told her where they were headed because it would’ve sounded like they were dragging her off to some sociopath’s fortress.

Hell, for all Jess knew, they had. These people hunted monsters for a living, or a hobby, or lifestyle or whatever. Point was that they had to be touched in the head in some way, didn’t they?

Of course, just as she thought that her life couldn’t get any weirder, she heard Dean cuss loudly, and he fairly launched himself out of the car as soon as he put it in park.

There was a man in a suit and tie standing on the dilapidated front porch, and Jess wondered if she should get out of the car to stop Dean from assaulting the poor census worker who was obviously in the wrong place at the wrong time. Thankfully, Bobby seemed to see the same thing and was running after Dean, grabbing a hold of his arm before he could take a swing.

The three of them started yelling at each other, and Jess was forced to revise her opinion that Mr. Trench Coat was a census worker. Gigantor groaned and whined in the backseat, so she timidly crept out of the car so that she could let the dog out.

Before she could clip the leash on his collar, the dog bolted past her and ran off towards Dean. If she hadn’t seen Sam move that fast back in her college days, she would’ve sworn that something so large wouldn’t have the grace and inertia to go from practically immobile to flying missile in a matter of seconds.

The dog had positioned himself between Dean and the Trench Coat man. His hackles were up, and he was growling low in his throat. Mr. Trench Coat cocked his head and looked curiously at Giagantor, but he didn’t look in the least bit afraid. His reaction pretty much cemented Jessica’s belief that the guy wasn’t a census worker.

Then again, maybe he was just used to having all manner of things growling at him. She’d heard that the census guys had to go to the shiftiest of places, and Bobby’s junkyard looked like it qualified.

“What are you doing out of Heaven?” was the first thing that the new guy said when Jess got up close to him.

“You don’t know? And here I thought God made you fancy head angel dude.” Dean’s voice was filled with anger and sarcasm. And apparently census workers were angels.

“You’re an angel?” Jess asked.

“He’s a dick.” Dean answered and the new guy just stared back at him.

“Jess, this is Castiel. He’s a friend.” Bobby said with a gentle tone. Jess was starting to like Bobby more. He seemed marginally sane despite his scary, doomsday junk yard and large collection of weaponry.

“He’s a douche bag.” Dean corrected.

“You are being unnecessarily adversarial.” Castiel said towards Dean.

Dean flipped him off.

“Umm… What’s going on?” Jess asked in her tiniest, quietest voice. The last thing she wanted to do was piss off any of the men standing in front of her. If Bobby and Dean were armed, then she’d bet money that this Castiel was too.

“There is an uprising in Heaven. Some of the angels feel that I am too human and are doubting the position that I have been put in by God. They are seeking to get Michael out of the cage.” Castiel told her.

And really? She understood all the words. She had to have. She got into goddamn Stanford. She wasn’t stupid.

That didn’t keep her from not comprehending anything.

“What?”

“Cas got a big ass promotion and left us mere mortals to play boss man in Heaven. Only now he’s got a mutiny on his hands. Well, sorry Cas, but we’ve got earthling matters to attend to.” Dean snarled, and his dog gave an angry bark as if to punctuate the end of his sentence.

“My problem is your problem. I did not know that Jessica Moore had been pulled out of Heaven until just now. That means that the information was hidden from me. It means that there are angels conspiring with demons to get into Hell.”

“Wait, you’re saying that angels were helping demons revive Sam’s dead girlfriends and feed them demon blood? That this was somehow supposed to get them into Hell?” Bobby asked before Dean could cut in again.

“They were feeding you demon blood?”

Jess nodded in response because, well, she remembers being forced to drink something, and it had tasted like blood mixed with the vilest sort of spices. Dean had told her it was demon blood, and she didn’t have a reason to doubt him.

“This is not good.” Castiel stated.

“You think so?” Dean asked, all sarcasm and sneers.

“You are being very difficult, Dean.”

“Bite me, Cas.”

“Enough! I’m not going to let the two of you bicker in the presence of a lady.” Bobby ordered.

“I apologize.” Castiel said to her although Jess didn’t think he was actually sorry for anything.

 Dean didn’t apologize, and somehow that made her feel better. She didn’t need another lie even if it was just a common courtesy.

“There were other girls there too. I don’t think all of them were, had been dead.” Jess told Castiel after a few moments of awkward silence had passed.

“It makes sense. They would want to maximize their efforts.”

“Maximize their efforts to do what exactly?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, but human bodies aren’t made to survive in Hell. They can’t handle it and disintegrate. It’s a safety valve. If they could survive being there, then there would be a constant line of kidnapped victims waiting for possession. Sam was an exception to this, as was Adam. Whoever is doing this must believe that one of Sam’s… intimate acquaintances must be immune as well.”

“Sam slept with all those women?” Jess squeaked, and yes, she understood that Sam wasn’t exactly a virgin when they got together. She also figured that he hadn’t been after she died, but that many? She had denied it at Lisa’s, but if an angel was saying otherwise…

“Not all of them, Sweetheart. Sammy was big on the romance.” Dean assured her and defended his brother all in one sentence.

“The point is that this situation is very bad. Demons don’t have the power to bring a human out of Heaven. Even crossroads demons can’t do it by themselves. That’s why the human needs to barter their soul. They need the power of a still human soul to pull off their magic. I highly doubt that those demons you killed found people to barter their souls away to wish Jessica Moore and her fellow women back into existence.” Castiel said.

“So your angel buddies are working with demons. Great. How’s the new job coming, Cas? The side job of stealing candy from babies not lucrative enough these days?”

“You are being difficult. I will contact you when I have more information.” Castiel disappeared in a gust of wind as soon as the last words got past his lips.

Gigantor finally quit growling though.

Bobby heaved a sigh and gestured towards the front door. “Well, now that Dean’s made a complete idjit of himself, would you like to go inside and have something to drink?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean was pissed at Cas. He was pissed at Sam too, but he missed his brother like a missing limb, and the likelihood that he was ever going to have the chance to express his ire towards his brother ever again was approximately nil.

Come to think of it, he missed Sam worse because he’d had missing limbs in Hell, and he never missed them like he’d missed Sam.

A few hours of research had provided no more information than what they already had, but Dean wasn’t surprised. Angels were involved. When did they ever get information out of them?

Bobby had slipped a sedative into Jessica’s drink when they’d gotten into the house. He didn’t put her down in the safe room even though her sweating and shaking episodes had started to get worse. He said that a she didn’t deserve to wake up in another prison basement even if it was a good precaution.

Thinking about Jess’s condition, Dean winced. Maybe he should’ve talked to Cas about cleaning her up before he left.

If he hadn’t been so angry at the appearance of his one time friend, he would’ve thought clearly enough to bring it up. He hadn’t though, and she was upstairs suffering because of it. He just hoped that she didn’t die. He didn’t want death on his shoulders a second time.

Out of desperation, he hit the speed dial on his phone to call Chuck. Maybe the guy had seen something and just forgotten Dean’s number after the apocalypse or something.

“Hello?” Chuck’s voice sounded slurred from sleep and not drunkenness. It wasn’t an encouraging sign for possible Sam-in-Hell visions.

“Hey, Chuck.”

“Dean? Hey, how’re you doing?” Chuck whispered, and Dean could hear him fumbling around with something.

“Oh, the usual.”

“That good, huh?” Chuck commented, and Dean heard a door click shut.

“Chuck? What’re you up to?”

“I, uh, Becky was sleeping. Didn’t want to wake her.”

“Becky? Didn’t you break up with her?”

“What? No!”

“Dude, you totally did. Right before the whole apocalypse show down thing. I remember it was right before I got to see both of my brothers fall into the bottomless pits of Hell to take up residence as angel condoms for eternity.”

“Okay, first of all that was very flowery for you. Second of all: DO YOU MEAN THAT THE FREAKING APOCALYPSE IS OVER AND NONE OF YOU DOUCHBAGS TOLD ME?”

“Dude, what the hell? You sent me to the graveyard.”

“What graveyard?”

“Have you been smoking something? Did Becky put some sort of mind spell on you? Because, I gotta tell you, she’s a little creepy. I wouldn’t put her past something like that.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God. I need a drink. No, I need to sit down. No, I need to drink and sit down and possibly throw up.” Chuck rambled on the other end of the line.

“Chuck?”

“I can’t believe that the apocalypse is over! I mean, I thought we were all doomed, you know? Or, at least, I thought that I was going to end up a toilet paper hoarding gnome while Castiel starting balling everything that moved. I… God I didn’t even make her sign a prenup!”

“What, who? Becky?”

“Yeah, well, I figured she was going to kick it, right?”

“Wait. You married that psycho chick?”

“Hey! That’s my wife you’re talking about.” Chuck protested.

“A wife that you’re having panic attacks about marrying.” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah, well wait until you get married. It’ll happen to you too.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not going to marry a chick who was in love with one of my supposedly fictional characters.”

“Whatever, man. I need to go call my lawyer, and possibly buy more Jack Daniels. I’ll call you if I, uh, see anything.”

Chuck hung up the phone before Dean could say anything else.

Dean stared at the blank display on his cell phone for a while before coming to the conclusion that Chuck might have the right idea. A drink sounded pretty damn good at the moment.

When he shuffled out into Bobby’s kitchen, the first thing that he noticed was a pissed off Crowley struck in a devil’s trap made out of mustard.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.” He said as he walked towards the refrigerator.

“What did Chuck have to say?” Bobby asked without looking in Dean’s direction, his gaze focused on Crowley.

Dean reached inside the fridge to grab a beer before answering, “Not much.” He wasn’t sure what Crowley did or did not know, but he wasn’t about to talk about Chuck not remembering his vision about the graveyard in front of him. Or worse, not being the person that Dean had talked to all those months ago.

“So,” Dean began after a few minutes of silence, “is there a reason that you’ve got a demon locked up in your kitchen, or is this some sort of kinky game you two are playing?”

Crowley scowled in his direction. “Bobby summoned me. I stepped into the kitchen, and he squirted the last of the trap in around me. It’s terribly rude.”

“You summoned him right into a trap?” Dean didn’t bother hiding his surprise at the information. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more, the fact that Bobby was summoning demons, or the fact that he had gotten good enough at it that he could control their placement when summoned.

“Some of us have been developing some new skills that don’t involve campfires and weenie roasts.” Bobby snapped.

“Yeah, but demon summoning? That’s kind of…”

“Boy, I don’t think you of all people should be giving me any lectures about doing stupid, dangerous things.” Bobby interrupted.

“Point.” Dean acceded with a nod of his head. “So, what did you summon him for?”

“Yes, Bobby, what did you summon me for?” Crowley asked with his perpetual edge of sarcasm.

“Well, I figured that you being a demon and all, you might be holding back some information about this whole situation. I’m finding it kind of hard to believe that you didn’t know about the angels interfering. Instead of me and Dean running around the globe trying to find out what you already know, I figured I’d go straight to the source.”

“With mustard?” Crowley asked his expression a mixture of distaste and boredom.

Dean looked at Bobby for the response because, if he was honest with himself, he was kind of curious about that.

“The bottle has been in my fridge for over two years now. Stuff never goes bad, never gets used and doesn’t stain like ketchup does.”

“I think I’ve just been insulted by condiment choice. It’s a first, and I’ve been around a very long time.” Crowley muttered.

“Must be true love.” Dean goaded before taking another swing of his beer.

Bobby just grunted and stared pointedly in Crowley’s direction.

“What? You think that I’m just going to spill all of my secrets to you because I’m stuck in a trap of sandwich spread?”

Bobby grabbed a shotgun off the kitchen table and aimed it at the trapped demon.

Crowley mock gasped, bringing his hand up to rest limply at his collar. “No gag? No safe word?”

“Don’t make me shoot you. It takes time to pack salt rounds, and I don’t feel like wasting them on you.”

“Don’t make threats that you don’t inte…” Crowley cut off with a grunt of pain as Bobby casually shot him.

“Didn’t say I wouldn’t,” Bobby said with a casual shrug.

“You’re getting mean in your old age. Luckily for you, I like that in my men.”

Bobby just primed his gun again, ejecting the spent casing and letting the next one settle into the chamber.

“Oh, come on now, if I’m withholding information from you, do you really think that a couple of gunshots are going to get me to spill my secrets?”

“He’s got a point there, Bobby.”

“So what do you suggest? I kiss it out of him?” Bobby asked with just a tiny glance sideways at Dean.

“Uh, no. I don’t think my eyes could handle that.”

“Much as I’d like to say otherwise, it wouldn’t work. I’m more the kind to kiss and deal.”Crowley said, his usual swagger fully recovered from the shot.

“That was a really bad pun. Just want you to know.” Dean informed the demon.

“So sorry to have offended you sophisticated sense of humor.”

“Quit your snide remarks and start talking.” Bobby snapped.

“I’m starting to think that tall, gorgeous and beefcake over there is starting to negatively impact your brain. What part about, ‘I’m not going to tell you anything,’ don’t you get?”

Bobby’s frown furrowed deeper in his face as his eyes squinted with menace. “Listen you…”

“Enough! Just enough, Crowley. Fighting with them isn’t going to help anything, and Mr. Singer is correct. They have better things to do other than run around the country trying to put figure out a riddle that we already have the answer to.” A deep voice rumbled from the kitchen doorway.

Bobby instantly turned and aimed his shotgun at the intruder while Dean’s hand went to grab the knife from the back of his belt.

The figure stepped forward into the fluorescent lighting, but Dean didn’t need to look to tell him that the light was revealing his little brother’s face. Time hadn’t erased the memory of what Sam’s voice sounded like.

“Lucifer,” Bobby hissed, and Dean swallowed hard around the bile that was desperately trying to make its way up his throat.

“No, but before you ask, I’m not Sam either. I’m just… inhabiting his body if you will.”

That there? Was enough to make Dean go ape shit crazy with repressed grief and rage. He flung himself across the room to stab the, the thing that was walking around in his brother’s skin. He dimly heard twin protests from both Crowley and Bobby.

He understood Bobby’s concern. Attacking an unknown target so recklessly was a seriously dumb maneuver. He wasn’t sure why Crowley cared except for the fact that he was obviously in cahoots with whatever demon was occupying Sam, and he didn’t want Dean to kill his compatriot.

The thing in Sam grunted at the impact of Dean’s body. Empty bottles and cans and dusty, old books went flying in every direction as they grappled against each other, slamming into cupboards and counters.

Dean managed to slice the demon’s arm with his knife, but there was no accompanying flash from the cut. He barely jerked back in surprise, but it was enough for the creature to throw Dean to the side and roll into a defensive crouch with his back to the kitchen sink.

“You’re not a demon.” Dean noted out loud.

The thing wearing Sam’s skin huffed out in what used to be Sam’s laugh for ironically moronic things that Dean said. “Yeah, well, the kid had a tattoo that kind of keeps that from happening. The ink is still intact.”

“So we’re back to you being Satan, or possibly a skin walker or a zombie or a…”

“Do you really need to list all of the things I might be? You’re in a room with one of the most knowledgeable hunters still alive and a very old crossroads demon. I think that we’re all up to speed.”

Dean glared back at him, but didn’t say anything. His brain was racing trying to remember where the nearest silver knife was and where he’d stashed his vial of holy oil.

“Look,” the Sam clone said in a measured tone, “I’ll let you stab me with silver, surround me with holy fire, drink holy water, whatever. Just… could we not waste our time having fist fights over this whole thing? You’ve got your existence to go back to, and so do I.”

Dean squinted at him. “Right,” he drawled the word out to clearly express his doubt.

“I’m admitting that I’m not Sam, right? I could’ve just walked in here and faked it. His brain still has accessible memories in it.”

“If you’re not a demon and you’re not the Devil, what exactly are you claiming to be?” Bobby asked with an eerie calm that Dean knew meant that Bobby was seconds away from shooting the creature with his gun to test out its resistance to rock salt.

The Sam-thing shrugged its shoulders, and it hurt to even watch because it was Sam’s shrug, Sam’s tiny lip purse that he always did when trying to come up with just the right wording in a tricky situation.

“I don’t know. The cage was built to hold Lucifer in, but when it opened, it was Sam that was in control of the body. The cage wasn’t built for human occupancy. As best I can tell from what I’ve gotten out of the demons down there, it tried expelling Sam from the cage, but Lucifer was still riding his meat suit. I guess that it was like making a Thanksgiving Day wish only they both got expelled, and somehow I was created out of it.”

“Wait, wait. So you’re telling me that my brother’s soul is stuck in Hell, and you’re some sort of love child between him and the Devil? And you expect me to not kill you?” Dean snarled as sickness and rage warred for dominance in his belly.

The creature sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know where Sam’s soul is. I’ve looked, but the thing is… his soul wasn’t headed for Hell, but there aren’t exactly reapers down there to take him upwards either.”

“There are no reapers in Hell.” Dean stated blandly as his eyebrows rose in statement of disbelief.

“He’s right, actually. There are no bodies in Hell to reap souls from. And believe me, when they have to bring one down, they get out of there as fast as they can afterwards. Bunch of pansies really.” Crowley butted into the conversation as if they were discussing actual pansies of the floral kind, and it made Dean want to hit him.

Then again, Dean wanted to hit a lot of things at the moment, so it could just be his general mood.

“And I have so much more reason to trust you than I do him. In case you forgot, you’re in league with this guy, and you’ve been leading us on a merry little, information withholding chase.” Dean addressed Crowley with a sneer.

“I’m a demon. It’s what I do.” Crowley announced proudly, and a little too smugly for Dean’s taste.

“Crowley!” The Sam thing reprimanded, and Dean was surprised to see the demon flinch just a little bit.

Dean’s eyes flickered over towards Bobby, and the expression on the other man’s face told him that he wasn’t the only one that had noticed Crowley’s unusual reaction.

“What exactly is going on here?” Bobby asked.

“Whether you believe me or not, I am here on a mission of good. I had hoped to not involve you, or at least, minimize your involvement in all of this. I knew that my appearance would be difficult for both of you, and I had no desire to inflict further harm. Sam cared deeply for both of you, and those memories of feelings still linger in his body.”

Dean started contemplating shoving his half empty beer bottle through the thing’s eye socket. If it didn’t look so much like Sam, he was certain that he would’ve already attempted it.

“A mission of good? What mission of good involves demons and yanked poor girls’ souls out of Heaven?” He asked in lieu of violence.

The thing didn’t answer for a moment, but then turned to look at Crowley with an almost pleading look.

Crowley looked put upon for a moment, but when the thing’s eyes narrowed at him, he slapped on a fake smile and cleared his throat. “They call him Hades.”

“The Lord of the Underworld? This is supposed to reassure me that he isn’t the Devil?” Dean asked.

“Hades kept souls from leaving the Underworld and coming back to life.” Bobby responded without looking in Dean’s direction.

Crowley beamed. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

Bobby grunted in response.

“Wait, wait. You’re trying to say that Sam-thing over here is just some benevolent god trying to keep dead people from leaving Hell? I’ve been there. That doesn’t sound so great of a thing to do.”

“Not people, Dean, demons.” The creature, Hades, clarified.

“Don’t you call me that. Not with my brother’s voice.” Dean snarled, “You don’t know me, and I sure as fuck don’t want to get to know you.”

“Okay, Mr. Winchester then.” Hades seemed amused, and Dean was very close to wiping the growing smirk off the thing’s face.

“Can we leave the male posturing until later? Or do you not want to know the rest of the story?” Crowley interrupted the brewing fight.

“Go on.” Dean spat out grudgingly.

“In any case, Hades is riding around in Lucifer’s vessel. A vessel that it outside of the cage. Lucifer’s devoted followers want to control his body, and give it back over. If that wasn’t enough, the not so devoted definitely don’t want Satan getting out, but they certainly want to be able to keep the overlord over there from raining on their parade.”

“And what do the angels have to do with all this?” Bobby asked.

“If Lucifer’s vessel can get out of the cage, so can Michael’s. Both sides figure that the vessel could theoretically call each angel through the cage and back into the vessel, but Hades is actually the only person that knows where the cage is at.”

“That sounds like a really good reason for killing him to me.” Dean pointed out.

“Yes, because that body has certainly never been dead before. Did you somehow miss the whole angelic interference part?” In Dean’s opinion, Crowley’s sarcasm was riding pretty high for a demon captured in a hotdog condiment.

“Okay, fine. They want body snatcher over there for his magical cage finding brain. What does that have to do with Sam’s ex-girlfriends? And, by the way, isn’t Hades supposed to be a god?”

“The god part is… complicated. But the women are rather simple.” Crowley explained or rather didn’t.

“And?” Dean prompted, tired of the theatrics.

Hades opened his mouth before Crowley had the chance. “They are looking for Persephone.”

“Come again?” Dean was fairly certain that his face shouldn’t look as shocked as it did in the reflection of Bobby’s microwave. He wasn’t actually that shocked by the announcement. The explanation did make some sort of twisted sense; it was just that his face obviously didn’t see it that way.

“They are looking for my mate. I cannot… Persephone would… It’s just advisable to keep them away from their goal. I can handle the demons, but the angels are a different subject.”

“And you think that Bobby and I can handle a bunch of rogue angels?”

“No, I don’t. I had hoped to keep the both of you out of this mess.”

“Well, good job on that.”

“I waited as long as I could. For months I avoided getting either of you involved in this. Months, Dean and I,” Hades paused and took a deep breath, “I refuse to allow you to goad me. The situation is what it is.”

“That it is. But don’t be looking for our support, and don’t call me ‘Dean.’” He said as he turned and started walking out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Hades asked with a whiny tone that Dean was fairly certain Sam hadn’t used since he’d turned sixteen.

“I’m going to go get my holy oil out of the trunk of my car. You’d better be here and ready to walk though a burning ring of fire when I get back.”

“How very Johnny Cash of you.” Crowley muttered.

Dean flipped him off without even turning around to look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much to Dean’s disappointment, Hades could cross the holy fire without any problem other than his cheap jeans starting to smolder from the heat of the fire. He licked salt from his hand and chased it down with holy water then had the nerve to ask for a lime. He did the hokey pokey in and out of the trap holding Crowley – much to everyone’s embarrassment.

The worst part of the whole deal was that Dean’s damn traitor of a dog loved the Sam suit stealing thing. Gigantor had run into Bobby’s house when Dean had come back from the Impala with supplies, and Hades had had the dog over on his back in seconds.

Bobby informed him that his dog was worthless, and Dean was grudgingly starting to agree with that assessment.

The only saving grace about the situation was that the dog still growled at Crowley.

Bobby grudgingly let Crowley out of the devil’s trap, and the demon left as quickly as possible with only an admonishment that Bobby needed to buy him a large bouquet of repentance roses to make up for trussing him up without the hope of getting off.

Dean wanted to gag a little bit at that. Hades looked like he was stuck between being horrified and amused.

When it became clear that Hades wasn’t just going to poof away in the same manner that Crowley had, Dean locked him in Bobby’s panic room for the night while the older hunter went to go check on Jessica.

Hades went in without the slightest hint of resistance or reluctance. His actions were far from reassuring.

In Dean’s experience, the only reason for a supernatural creature to act that way was that the creature’s powers were stronger than the protection of the room. It was unnerving.

Dean slammed the door shut the instant that Hades stepped through the archway and into the room. He didn’t want to look at that thing one moment longer than he had to.

Once he got back up the stairs, he made brief eye contact with Bobby before grunting his goodnight. Dean could see his own worries and concerns reflected in Bobby’s eyes with a few extras added on. The extras were no doubt focused around Dean and Dean’s ability to cope with the situation.

Dean fell asleep within two minutes of crawling onto Bobby’s spare cot. His last thought was that he was amazed that his body was relaxing into sleep so readily. His first thought upon waking was that his body was out to get him because sleep should last more than forty minutes.

He tried to roll over. He tried to think of nothing. He tried to think about his father’s lectures on the merits of proper hygiene in laundry.

None of it worked. Apparently whatever magic that had convinced his body that sleep was okay wasn’t working on his addled brain.

Of course, he knew the reason for that was sitting down in Bobby’s panic room. He also knew that he shouldn’t go down there alone, but the non-sane part of him reasoned that if he couldn’t sleep then there was no reason that the thing pretending to sort of not be Sam should have the privilege of sleeping either.

His worthless dog followed him down the stairs, but when Dean told him to sit at the bottom of the staircase, Gigantor obeyed. Granted, the mammoth dog obeyed with a huff of dog breath and a put upon doggy sigh, but he obeyed.

Hades was still awake when Dean slammed the door wide open. If Dean was in a truthful mood, he would admit to being disappointed at that. He’d wanted to rudely awaken the thing. It seemed only fair after the creature had stripped away Dean’s last dream of Sam coming back from Hell.

Even if his brother’s soul and spirit did manage to find its way out, it was going to go straight up to Heaven. Do not pass go. Do not collect two-hundred dollars.

“D… Mr. Winchester,” Hades greeted with Sam’s bashful little smile.

Dean wanted to rip the look off of the guy’s face, but settled for a verbal tongue lashing instead.

“Look you, you whatever you are. You’re in Sammy’s body, and I don’t like that. I think that we know that I’d rather be putting a bullet in your brain right now, but I’m not sure that it would actually kill you, and I’m not going to start shooting people until I get an idea of what is going on.”

Hades just nodded in response. He must’ve gotten the message that Dean really didn’t want to hear something not Sam using Sam’s voice. Either that or he was one of those annoying people-things who actually did think before speaking.

“I think that we need to set some ground rules. First: if I find out that you’re keeping Sam from taking back possession of his body there will not be words for the torture that I will put you through. Second: there will be no kidnapping of women, virgin maidens or otherwise, to drag back down into your caveman hell-lair.”

Hades smiled at that. “I had no idea you were actually versed in the mythology.”

“I spent a lot of time reading after my two brothers got angel taxied into Hell. Mythology seemed like a good place to start what with meeting Mercury and your fellow gods.”

“I don’t think that my situation is quite the same. I don’t think that I’m actually a ‘god.’ As for your other concern, if I was planning on abducting Persephone, I would have done it already.”

Dean frowned at Hades words. “Wait. You mean that you know who she is?”

“I do.” Hades confirmed with a slight bob of his head.

“And you didn’t think this information might be important to us? You’re the one looking for our help.”

“I am. I also know how well you do at protecting one specific target. Your reputation for keeping them breathing is less than stellar.”

Dean wanted to hit him for that comment, but he didn’t because the guy wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Right. So you want our help, but you’re not going to tell us who she is.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Hades emphasized his agreement with a nod.

“Fine. Just remember, no abductions and no raping while wearing my brother’s face. Or, you know, at all. And I’m so going to hunt you down when this is all over, you realize that, right?”

Hades arched an eyebrow at him. “You do realize that giving me fair warning isn’t exactly a wise thing to do, don’t you?”

“It’s not fair warning. It’s a threat and a promise.” Dean snapped before stalking back out of the panic room and slamming the door shut behind him.

He returned to his bed, but he didn’t sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jess wasn’t sure if she should be happy that she was awake and lucid, mad that she had apparently been drugged, or just plain depressed because she was clearly living the afterlife of a career criminal, and she’d never done anything to deserve it.

Okay, yeah, she’d apparently had sex with Lucifer’s intended. Well, lots and lots of sex, but she didn’t know that Sam had been destined to start the apocalypse, now did she?  And it wasn’t like Sam had meant to do that or even knew about it, so she couldn’t see how she could be held accountable for something her boyfriend hadn’t even known about.

“I want you to know that I hate you.” She mumbled as she stumbled into Bobby Singer’s kitchen.

Bobby gave her a tiny, apologetic, and entirely too gentlemanly smile for a man with a beard and a collection of ratty baseball caps.

Dean just grunted at her.

“So, you drugged me up last night.” Jess tried when it became apparent that neither of them were going to say anything.

“It was the best choice. Demon blood, it isn’t something that you want to mess around with. It ain’t your run of the mill drug.” Bobby said gently.

Dean grunted again.

“Great. So am I going to start carving this stuff forever? Like some sort of vampire junkie?”

“God I hope not. Vampires are nasty.” Dean’s mouth finally formed words.

Jess found that she kind of wanted to slap him, but that was probably just the generally crappy way she was feeling. She’d never been addicted to anything before.

“So…” Bobby said as he put a plate of dry toast down in front of her.

She twitched an inquiring eyebrow up at him because she had no idea what exactly it was that he thought she should be saying, but his gaze was resting on Dean’s face.

“What?” Dean snapped at the older man.

“You know what.” Bobby responded, and Jess was pretty sure that Bobby’s tone implied that not only was Dean an idiot, he was also a moronic and spineless idiot.

“You’re going to make me tell her?”

“Tell me what?” Jess interrupted before the two of them could get into a pissing match over whatever information it was that they thought she would need to know.

“Look, Jess, there are a lot of things out there that…”

“Some weird ass thing has possessed Sam’s body, and it’s locked up in Bobby’s basement.” Dean interrupted Bobby’s obviously gentle speech.

“Oh.” Jess heard herself say.

Bobby smacked Dean’s knuckles with the wooden spoon he’d just dragged out of one of his kitchen drawers.

“Actually, I’m not exactly locked up so much as roaming around the house freely, but the sentiment is nice.”

Jess felt her eyes widen because the throaty rumble and the slightly hunched posture she was seeing was all Sam. Most of her brain insisted that it was Sam, but her brain had been insisting that she do some pretty strange shit just the night before, so she knew that it wasn’t that great of an idea to treat it like it was sane.

“What the?” Dean sputtered as he stood up from his chair.

“You didn’t lock the door last night, and I think that I already proved that I’m not a demon.”

“Sam?” Jess heard her voice crack on the word, but she was going to steadfastly ignore that little fact.

He smiled sadly at her and shook his head. “Hades, actually. They call me Hades.”

“Oh, well I guess if Sam was going to get taken for a joyride you’re a better choice than Lucifer, right? I mean, in mythology you weren’t exactly a complete bad guy.” Jess mumbled nervously.

She was pretty certain that the look on Dean’s face was actually meant to flay the flesh from her bones. For a moment it really scared her because for all she knew of this strange new world she was living in, looks really could kill.

“Thank you?” Hades offered with Sam’s shy smile.

“You don’t thank her. You don’t say anything to her!” Dean snarled before he stormed out of the room.

Jess frowned because leaving a confrontation didn’t seem like something Dean would do. Not that she had deep knowledge of him, but what little she knew pointed to it being out of character for him.

“I…”

“He left because he was going to shoot me otherwise, and he wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt of shooting his own brother.” Hades filled in for her.

“How do you know that?”

“Because Sam’s brain can still recognize your facial expressions and all of Dean’s tells.”

“That’s, okay this is just way beyond what I was raised to deal with.” Jess admitted as she leaned against the counter for support.

“Dean, I require your…” the suit guy from the other day popped into existence in the kitchen, and Jess just wanted to get off the merry-go-round already.

“Castiel.” Hades greeted with a slight nod of his head.

“Sam.”

Jess just stared at the suit guy and wondered if he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Maybe he had. Maybe that was what baby dropping did to you. Turned you into a freak that could teleport and do other stuff. She was pretty sure that wasn’t the case, but then again what the hell did she really know except that anybody that had known Sam should be at least shocked to see him alive.

“I’m not Sam.” Hades replied with all the smooth tones that Jess had watched Sam practice in front of their tiny bathroom mirror whenever he was working on verbal presentations.

Castiel’s brow furrowed. “I need to speak with Dean.” He said almost as if he were a robot of some sort instead of a living being.

Head dropping. Definitely. Or maybe one of those high fevers that cook brain cells. Maybe Castiel was a victim of that demon blood stuff that she’d been on.

No. No wait, hadn’t Dean said something about this guy having angel buddies or he was an angel? Maybe he’d been exposed to some angel dust or something. If demon blood had done the number it had on her system, maybe angel stuff messed with your brain waves?

“He’s outside with his dog.” Hades replied, though his lips were twisting in a smirk that let Jessica know that Sam’s memories of her face were letting him know what she was thinking.

Or something like that.

She watched Castiel leave. Once she heard the outside door slam, she turned to Bobby. “What’s wrong with him?”

Bobby opened his mouth, shrugged and scratched the top of his head. “Which one?”

“I… never mind.” Jess mumbled as she sank down onto the chair that Dean had vacated.

Turning to face the being that used to be her devoted boyfriend, she gestured for him to sit as well.

“So, you’re the Lord of the Underworld. Tell me more.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You are an idiot.” Cas announced after Dean caught him up on the latest news.

“Great. Thanks. Care to explain?”

“Hades is… I still do not understand you or your thought processes.”

“Well your unhelpful criticism of my brain is duly noted. Now are you going to help us out here or not?”

“My help in this situation is obvious. I cannot allow my brothers to run about conspiring with demons. What I am more concerned about are your intentions.”

“My intentions? I’m not taking him on a date here, and even if I were, he’s the virtue stealing douche bag.” Dean pointed out in what he thought was a perfectly reasonable analogy.

“I was referring to your ulterior motives for assisting. Although I do find your somewhat insane family loyalty touching, assassinating him is most definitely not going to bring Sam back. It will only leave you with a corpse to burn.”

“What do you know about it? Last I checked you were off being a pansy assed angel without a clue. Sam is all I’ve got, okay? He’s… You know what? Fuck you Cas. Fuck you and fuck Lisa and fuck fucking Sam too, because I can’t do this. I’m not… I can’t go back to playing white picket fences and apple pie life. I’m not that guy. So when this latest world-ending catastrophe is over? I am grabbing that brother wearing freak, marching his ass into Hell, and goddamn dragging my bitch of a little brother’s soul out with me in his goddamn meat suit!”

“You’ll get yourself killed, and how do you think that Sam would feel about that?”

“I don’t care! He’s the one who, he…” Dean paused and took a deep breath before his emotions got the better of him. He wasn’t going to lose it in front of the kiss ass angel that he used to think was his friend.

“Dean,” Castiel’s monotone voice was pitched softly, and Dean stepped away before the angel tried to touch his should in camaraderie or some other human feeling left over from when he hadn’t been hopped up on his own power and actually had been experiencing human feelings.

Gigantor growled softly from over where he was laying in the shade of one of Bobby’s clunkers. Damn unhelpful dog. Although, maybe the dog was smarter than Dean was. Maybe the stupid mutt actually knew when it couldn’t win a fight.

“Just… just go talk to your angel buddies and see what you can do.” Dean told Cas dismissively.

Castiel opened his mouth as if to say something. Argue some more maybe, or point out that as some uber angel, he didn’t have to take Dean’s orders, but he simply huffed once instead and disappeared.

Dean closed his eyes to block out the view of the sunny yard that was all he could see once Castiel vanished.

It figured. Even the weather rarely agreed with his mood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jess liked to think of herself as an adaptable sort of girl. She was smart and athletic. Hell, she didn’t get into Stanford on her fabulous looks and her parents money. Well, not alone she didn’t.

She had earned her place at that institution, and even if Sam had always had a higher GPA than her, well, Sam had whipped everybody’s asses. As his girlfriend, she’d gotten bragging rights.

Being Sam’s girlfriend amongst hunters got her a shotgun with instructions to “shoot anything that looks menacing.”

She’d have shot Dean out of principle if she knew what was in the rounds that he’d given her. Sam’s older brother was gorgeous, freaking scary and quite possibly insane. He wasn’t her type at all.

When the weird Crowley guy had popped into Bobby’s kitchen, she hadn’t been surprised. Not that she’d been expecting an average looking man in an expensive suit to appear in a rundown house in the middle of North Dakota, but her hangover from the blood had been pretty bad at that point.

Plus? The whole my-ex-boyfriend-is-now-king-of-the-Underworld thing had pretty much sapped away any reserves of shock that she’d had left from the coming back to life scenario.

Crowley, who was apparently a demon and not to be trusted, except that they were trusting him for some damn reason, had come to inform Hades that there was a group of demons nesting in a nearby cave, and they were planning some seriously funky mystic crap.

Dean had come in on the tail end of the conversation and had looked pissed. But he hadn’t said anything other than that they weren’t going to let Hades and deal with the whole thing himself. If there was going to be something big going down, Dean wasn’t trusting either Hades or Crowley to tell him what was actually going on. He was going to see for himself.

Of course, taking Bobby along meant that Jess had to come as well because she needed to be protected.

She wasn’t sure why giving her a gun and dragging her along to a demon hunt was considered protection. But it had seemed to make sense to Dean, and as much as he seemed to be a little loose in the head, he also appeared to be an expert on these things.

The supernatural world was exhausting, in her humble opinion. Jess was so never celebrating Halloween again.

“You doing okay?” Bobby’s gentle voice soothed her nerves, and she would’ve smiled at him except for the fact that his kindly face was shadowed by the barrel of his own, bigger shotgun.

“Not really.” Jess answered him honestly because honesty was usually a good policy, and she was going to be stuck in this situation whether she told the truth or not.

Bobby just grunted sympathetically at her, and for a second she marveled at how expressive the man could be with his grunts. She’d heard enough of them earlier when they’d been preparing to go to wherever it was that the Crowley guy-demon, had taken them.

It had been like watching a bizarre case of gay sexual harassment. Crowley wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and Bobby eventually just devolved into grunting admonishments.

Hades had been amused at first, but as Bobby had gotten more and more uncomfortable, his mouth had slowly inverted from a tiny smile to a disapproving scowl.

The next thing that Jess knew, the lights in Bobby’s house were flickering and the floorboards were quaking. And Crowley? He’d gone from outright leering at Bobby’s beard and making comments about road rash to slapping both hands over his mouth and nostrils.

Bobby had yanked Jess behind him.

Dean had leveled two pistols at Hades.

The lights had abruptly turned back on and the rumbling instantly ceased.

“Sorry? I… that happens sometimes when I lose my temper.” Hades had explained, his hands raised in a halfhearted gesture of surrender.

Crowley had dropped his hands, but said nothing. His eyes had continued to shine in terror long after his face had reassumed its cocky smirk.

Dean’s eyes had remained cold, and he was never out of arm’s reach of a gun for the rest of the night.

And now they were about to invade a cave that was supposedly holding an entire posse of demons. Jess had been deemed a horrible shot by all who witnessed, but eventually given a gun anyway because she needed to be able to defend herself.

The Latin for the exorcisms had been easy though. It was a remnant of her time with Sam. He’d been at the top of his class in Latin, and had developed a habit of muttering in it under his breath whenever he felt the need to insult somebody or something without being caught. Jess had learned some of it simply to satiate her curiosity of what he’d been saying.

Dean had been surprised at how easily she memorized the incantation. Hades had looked almost proud, and she wondered if Sam’s leftover memories didn’t affect him more than he was admitting.

The devil’s traps? Those were a piece of cake. Once she got past the fact that it was really sort of creepy to be drawing them, she’d been able to practically fly through their creation. She had minored in art in college, and her professors had always alternately praised her wide range of ability with different mediums and mourned her inability to specialize in just one.

Jess doubted that any of those professors had even envisioned her putting their training to use by etching out half a demon catching trap in dirt and then mixing her own saliva with that dirt to finish the trap by drawing on a large rock.

Of course, Jess also doubted her own sanity these days, so she didn’t think about her professors all that much.

Before her mind could wander off on another topic, all hell broke loose. Or rather, as much hell as she’d ever seen.

There were guns firing and men screaming in Latin. There were inhuman cries and a rumbling in the ground that accompanied those cries.

And in the middle of all of the noise that she could hear erupting inside the cave, it started to rain. Which sucked because dirt washes away in the rain, and even the traps that had been made with the assistance of spray paint, were becoming deformed as the water pushed away the parts that had been formed over moveable debris.

Of course, just when the traps were mostly eroded was the time that the fight moved out of the cave.

There was an explosion and soon Jess was watching in horrified fascination as Dean got into a bizarre knife fight with a man that made Sam look small.

A small part of her insisted that she help Dean by shooting at the demon that was attacking him. The more rational part of her realized that her heroism was misplaced as she would just as likely hit Dean as the monster.

“DEAN!” A bellowing voice had echoed out of the cave and three more bodies exploded out from the mouth of it as Hades stumbled forward.

If the whole situation hadn’t been so terrifying, it would’ve been funny seeing so large a man stumble forward with so many bodies grabbing on to him, trying to drag him back into the cave. For a second, Jess was tempted to shoot at them. With the mass of creatures, she was fairly certain that even with her bad aim, she would hit an enemy.

Just as she was raising her gun, Dean’s damn dog overcame its bizarre cowardice and took off into the fray, snarling and biting at the demons hanging off of Hades’ tall frame. And really, it was just a dog. Its life wasn’t more important than that of her more human compatriots, but she was pretty certain that Dean would hurt her if she hit it in her firing attempts. Plus, she was pretty certain that it was inflicting way more damage than her shoddy shooting would.

The downside to the dog joining the fray was that it caused some of the monsters to look in her direction. That was a bad thing. Jess finally got to fire her gun as three of the demons broke off from the swarm at the mouth of the cave and came running in her direction.

As scary as it had been when Hades had been causing earthquakes and electrical problems, there was something significantly more frightening about being advanced on by people with inky black eyes. For a brief moment, Jess flashed back to being held captive - the smell of death and the sounds of torture surrounding her, and the feeling of thick, cold blood sliding in her mouth.

Then she started shooting. She only got off two shots before they were on her, and only one of those shots even grazed her would be attackers in the leg.

For a split second, all she could do was scream her fool head off. Then her self preservation instincts took over and she was sobbing out Latin as fast as she could and half praying that her pounding heart would just explode on her so that she could die of a heart attack instead of something more terrifying.

“Jess!” Dean’s bellow was garbled, but Jess could see that even though he had noticed her plight, he wasn’t going to be coming to her rescue. He was bleeding and although his knife fighting opponent was now lying presumably dead at his feet, he had his own group of devils attacking him.

Jess fought back another scream off terror when Dean went down under the force of his attackers, and turned the energy into a shrieking yell of an exorcism. It was quite possibly the shrillest that her voice had ever been, but it was at least making the demons wince in pain as they tried to get closer.

“NO!” Hades’ bellow rang through the downpour, and Jess didn’t have time to be surprised that he was free enough of the throng to bellow anything because the mud beneath her feet started to buckle and heave while lightning started streaking down out of the sky like the raindrops instead of the normal electrical bolts that they should’ve been.

The movement of the earth made her slip and fall onto her butt, but she kept chanting despite the fact that she was certain that the world was about to end. If she was going to be taking her second ride upstairs, she was going to be sending a couple of these bastards downstairs before she went.

A horrible howling joined the sounds of battle, and Jess worried that a tornado had gotten summoned along with the weather. The sad thing was that she was more worried that it would drown out the sounds of her exorcism more than she was worried about the fact that her ex-boyfriend was probably the one summoning it.

One of the demons was grabbing on to her arm when it suddenly jerked and half spun to its right. A muted boom sounded, and it jerked backwards again before black smoke started pouring out of its face. Her other two attackers started to tremble and soon they were expelling the same substance from their mouths.

When they dropped to the ground, Jess turned her own terrified gaze away from the bodies to thank Hades for his rescue only to see the now soggy ball cap and beard of Bobby Singer.

Confused, she cast her gaze back to the entrance of the cave, but there only a very worse for wear Crowley standing there.

A soft moan drew her gaze back towards where she’d seen Dean fall during the battle. Her first instinct was to jerk her eyes away from what she saw. Gigantor was sitting tall and cowed next to Dean’s prone body. Blood was dripping from his muzzle, and even in the poorly lit world that the storm had created, she could see where the blood was matting with the mud to make his gray fur almost black.

She forced her gaze back though because Hades was cradling Dean’s head in his lap and murmuring God knew what into the hunter’s ear. She heard another moan and realized that it was actually coming from Dean, and that the man wasn’t dead after all.

She scrambled to her feet and hurried over to the scene, Bobby running clumsily behind her.

When she got to Dean, she could see that Hades was applying pressure to a head wound. For a second, his hazel eyes were full of panic and fear before they settled into the calm gaze that she’d seen him use ever since she first saw him in Bobby’s kitchen.

Recognition slammed into her, and all of her classes at Stanford about mythology started scrambling in her brain along with memories of Sam. The days and hours that she’d spent trying to get him to talk about his family had been short on conversation, but rife with looks. The hard look he’d get when she asked about his father was always superseded by the vaguely guilty one that he got when she’d ask about his brother.

That look always faded into something else. Annoyance, worry, pain, loneliness: she figured that she understood the guilt now that she knew the truth about what he had left behind, what he had left Dean behind to deal with.

And she understood looking at Hades now that it wasn’t just Sam’s memories putting those feelings in those damn shifty eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sam,” Jess accused the instant that Hades stepped through the motel room door.

Bobby was staying at the hospital while they waited for Dean, or rather Lars Nelson, to be released from observation for his head wound, and Jess didn’t want to wait to have this confrontation. She also didn’t want to have it with other people present, and with Crowley skulking back to wherever he came from, she figured that now was the perfect time.

Some part of her had been hoping for a denial. She’d wanted to at least fight with him because they had some pretty damn big unfinished business, but he simply shot her a sad smile and sat down on the small chair in the room. It creaked under his weight but held together.

“Well?” He prompted after a moment of silence.

“I was waiting for the denial.” She told him honestly because, well, direct always worked best with Sam. He was too adept at lying and half truths to ever be beaten with that game.

He shrugged and shook his head. “Wouldn’t do any good, would it?”

“I… Why?”

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific there are a lot of things that you could be justifiably asking me with that question.”

Jess rolled her eyes and him and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think you know the one I’m asking about.”

“Because he doesn’t… Dean had a chance with Lisa. Before all of this came up, he was starting to adjust. He was starting to fit in. If this hadn’t started, he’d probably be engaged right now talking to Ben about family and how not being his real father doesn’t mean squat.”

Jess frowned and glared a little at Sam because in her opinion he was painting a pretty damn rosy picture there, but he was earnest about wanting the best for Dean. That was sort of endearing. On the other hand, her involvement with his lying ass had gotten her not only killed, but resurrected and tortured as well. That deserved a little payback.

“You were stalking him? That is really creepy of you.”

Sam flinched and looked down at the massive paws that he called his hands. “Yeah, well, I’m kind of a freak.”

“I noticed. It was about the time that you started the Professor Xavier act.” Jess deadpanned back because she apparently had wells of anger and bitterness about the whole thing that she hadn’t realized she had.

“Professor Xavier was the telepath, Jess. I think that Storm or maybe Jean Grey or event Magneto would be a better pick – what with the lights and demon pulling and weird weather stuff.”

“God! You’re such a dweeb!” Jess as she stomped over and tweaked the end of his nose. It was an old habit that she’d gotten into whenever they were having a fight. Her friends had called it a psychological problem that she felt the need to prove to herself that she could physically harm him even though he was so much bigger than her.

“Ow,” Sam whined the same as he always had.

“You’ve got a funny nose. I think you got so tall because your mother gave all the pretty boy genes to your brother.”

Sam’s eyebrows flew upwards. “What are you twelve? Don’t you have better things to be insult me with?”

“Yes, I do. But I really would rather not think about your undying, sociopathic, gay love for your brother right now.”

Sam sputtered a while before regaining his voice. “What are you talking about?”

“Sam. Really? I’m not stupid here. You avoided even talking to your brother for two years. Then he shows up in the middle of the night for you to go help him find your father, and you leave with him.”

“I… he needed help!”

“Sam? The man was fighting off an entire army of evil today. He doesn’t need any help except for the kind that a good psychologist can offer. And I’m betting that isn’t a new trend in his life. He came and somewhere inside you, you wanted to go. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“I came back!” Sam protested.

“It doesn’t matter! You didn’t want to! Or at least not all of you did! My God, Sam, were you ever really in love with me?”

“Of course I was. Jess, I loved you, so much. When you died, I…”

Jess held up her hand when the tears started welling up in his eyes. Those were real, but they didn’t matter at the moment.

“Just, it doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve moved on, and I’ve had a few good years of afterlife with hopefully an eternity to come if I don’t really mess up on this second existence thing.”

Sam shook his head in denial. “It does matter. You…”

“I’m not Dean, Sam. I’ll never be him, and you will never be happy without him.”

“He’s my brother.”

“He’s yours. Period. I wasn’t the one that you ran to rescue today.”

“That isn’t… he had more demons attacking him.”

“Two more than I did, and he is far better equipped than I am to deal with that. But it was Dean you were calling for, and it was Dean that you sent that damn dog to protect.”

“I…”

“Sam, that dog is the most terrifying beast I’ve ever laid eyes on. And what is Hades without Cerebrus? I’m guessing that he’s actually a mix of three different breeds, and I’m hoping that you aren’t hiding his extra heads with magic or something.”

Sam laughed a little at that. “No, he’s just a normal dog. Mostly. It’s a long story. Suffice it to say that I was freshly out of Hell and wasn’t too happy with what his former owner was doing to him.”

“Yeah, well, he’s still terrifying. He wasn’t too happy with being put in the motel’s kennel.”

“He doesn’t do well with cages.” Sam’s chest puffed out a bit in defense of his dog, and for a second, Jess was reminded of why she had fallen in love with him. He’d been hell bent on becoming a champion of the oppressed, suing one evil corporation after another until justice was served.

It turned out that he was really just Hell bound though, and she really had no business loving a taken man.

“Neither do you.” She finally replied softly.

“I’m in a cage that is of my own making. It’s different.”

“Not so different.”

“It’s necessary.” Sam clarified.

“For who? You? Because I might not know your brother all that well, but I think he’d rather know that you’re you in there than think that you’re some creature wearing his brother’s face.”

“What Dean wants rarely turns out to be what is good for him.”

Jess glared at him. “I think I’m going to be offended on his behalf for that comment. Where do you get off making those sorts of decisions for him? Last I checked he has free will.”

“Last I checked I never brought him anything but more pain and heartache. I’m not going to do that to him. Not again. I, I love him too much to put him through this. I won’t do it. What I am now is unnatural. I can’t change what I’ve become, but I can save my brother from it.”

“And what happens when those ghouls that we fought today finally figure out that Persephone isn’t a girl? That your other half is strutting around with a cock and a gun? How are you going to feel when that happens?”

“It won’t.”

“You can’t stop it! I figured it out, and if I can do it, so can they.”

“As long as Dean keeps you with him, they’ll think that it’s you. They’ll see me protecting you, and Dean will make the same damn assumption. It’s what is logical.”

“You jackass! You can’t use me as some sort of sick beard to your incestuous, gay, end-of-the-world romance.” Jess hissed as her eyes narrowed.

“Then give me another choice here, because I am not putting Dean through this!”

“If you’re not man enough to tell him, then I will. And so help me, you will regret the way that I tell him.”

“No you won’t. You can’t. I’m Hades, remember? I’m not the King of the Damned. I’m the King of the Dead. It’s why Cas couldn’t tell Dean about me. Once you’ve died, you fall within my powers. Not enough to take away your free will, but enough that I can keep you from outing me to Dean.”

“I’ll just leave then.”

“And I’ll still protect you. It won’t be as easy of a conclusion to jump to, but still a feasible one. I’m not going to leave any of you without some sort of defense. Hell, I have Lisa and Ben under watch for harm.”

“What if I don’t want your protection?”

“Jess, really, you mean to tell me that you want a bunch of demons and rogue angels after you without any protection?”

“I mean to tell you that you’re being crazy right now!”

Sam winced and looked down at his hands again. “I know.”

“Then stop it!”

“I can’t. This is the best I can do. I… these powers aren’t exactly all that controllable on my own, and they make me a little unreasonable. It’s why I’m meant to have Dean, and why I can’t. Binding him to me would share the burden of keeping control, but I can’t wish that on him. He doesn’t… it would kill him to be that way with me. He would hate himself forever because he’d be certain that he was the one that caused these feelings to develop.”

Jess shook her head and sat down on the nearest bed. She was tired. Tired of being alive again and tired of arguing with Sam.

But she wasn’t going to give up. Sam might be a little off kilter and riding high on unearthly power at the moment, but she wasn’t some dumb blonde. She was smart and devious, and she was going to find a way around his damn powers.

 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean really hated hospitals and concussions.

He didn’t feel the need to justify why he hated them because they were just the kind of thing that reasonable people should hate.

Hospitals were just plain nasty and weird smelling, and the kind of place that he had to visit way too often in his line of work. In a way, he guessed that he felt the same way about them that the average office worker would about his cubicle.

And when he was actually the one in the hospital? Oh, it was so much more than hate. Loathing was a better word for it.

Concussions though – once he was finally allowed to go to sleep, he always dreaded the dreams that he’d have. They were reliably worse than the regular garbled jumble of real life horrors that his dreams brought. The residual pounding in his head always made things feel sharper and more physical.

Images were brighter, sounds were clearer, and his brain conjured up some funky shit.

He was pretty certain that this time the drugs the hospital staff gave him gave unnatural assistance to the concussion dream though, because dreaming about cuddling with that thing that had taken over Sam’s body? That was just creepy.

First: Dean did not cuddle.

Second: Dean did not want to swap spit with Sam’s mouth and hold his freakishly large body in a warm embrace.

Third: Dean had every intention of torturing that sick bastard until it let Sam back in where he belonged.

Dean was going to need a little distance from the guy to do that, and dreaming of sexy cuddle times wasn’t going to help that.

“You ready to go?” Bobby asked as he walked into the room.

“As soon as that doctor gets back and tells me I’m ready. Hopefully he doesn’t die on the way here. I swear the guy is eighty.” Dean grumbled.

Bobby just shrugged. “You doin’ okay?”

“I’ll live.”

“Not talking about your latest addition to your scar collection.”

“I know. I’ll live.” Dean repeated the second phrase slowly.

“Dean, that guy was causing ground tremors and lightning storms.”

“Yeah? You’ve got a point you want to make with that?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. You’re an idjit. He could snap you like a twig, and you’re going to go after him anyway on the off chance that you might, might be able to drag Sam out of a place that you’re not even sure he’s at. After you promised him that you wouldn’t do that.”

“I promised Sam that I wouldn’t go poking at the cage. If what Hades is telling us is true, then Sam isn’t in the cage anymore. I might not be able to go after Adam, but I can go after Sam.”

“And what? Get yourself trapped in Hell? Again?”

“At least I’d be with him then.”

“Are you insane? No. Don’t answer that. There is only so much denial that I can stand to hear come out of your lips.”

“Look, Bobby, I appreciate you trying to look out for me here, but I tried the normal gig, okay? I tried, and it isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. So once this thing is over, I’m not going back. And I can’t break my promise to Sam unless he’s around to know it.”

“You’re still crazy, and I still don’t like it.” Bobby muttered.

“You don’t have to like it. You just have to quit trying to stop me.” Dean rebutted.

“Ain’t going to happen.”

Dean didn’t respond to that. He just glared at the door to the room until the doctor came.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The logical part of Jessica’s brain was willing to admit that her current headache was her own fault. She knew that Sam had told her that she couldn’t tell Dean the truth, but the instant that he was off with that weird little demon crony of his, she had tried to blurt out the truth to Dean.

It hadn’t worked so well. The closest she could come was telling Dean that he was an idiot. Surprisingly, he didn’t get all that upset with her about it.

Of course, that could be because she’d just about choked herself silly trying to say different phrases that would get Dean to catch the clue bus. By the time that she’d finally managed to insult his intelligence, he’d probably already written her off as having some sort of crazy breakdown.

To be honest, she was pretty certain she was close to having a meltdown, so she couldn’t blame him.

She tried talking to Bobby about it next, which didn’t work out any better, and it was annoying because apparently the whole not telling Dean thing extended to anybody who wasn’t Dean but could tell Dean.

Or maybe Sam’s mojo just kept her from telling anybody period.

In her previous existence, she would’ve known to ask that question instead of letting the ultimate weirdness of the situation override her curiosity. Details were essential to figuring out any riddle successfully.

The illogical part of her brain was completely willing to blame Sam for her headache because he was the one using his funky powers to silence her against her will. And really, what the hell was with Bobby not noticing anything? He was like some substitute father figure. Substitute father figures should totally notice the tender and caring way that “Hades” had been protecting and caring for his “not brother.”

Or maybe Bobby was just used to seeing that sort of behavior from Sam, so his mind hadn’t noted it as anything unusual.

Jess flopped down on the crappy motel bed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She should really just give up trying to analyze anything about her situation because it was just plain crazy as fuck.

A fluttering and whoosh of wind made her bolt to her feet. Adrenaline pumping, she had the motel lamp swinging down in an arc at the intruder before she realized it was Mr. Suit Guy.

He didn’t flinch when the lamp made contact, and Jess wondered how much extra the motel was going to charge them for breaking the lamp. Maybe if she bought a little super glue…

“I need to speak with Dean.” Suit Guy stated calmly.

“Don’t you ever say anything else? Does he have some sort of weird, gay draw that I don’t know about?”

Suit Guy titled his head inquiringly at her. “I do not understand your questions, nor why they are associated with each other.”

“Look, Mr. S… uh, you’re called Castiel, right?”

“It is my name.”

“Look, it’s been a really rough re-existence this year, okay? And I’m not exactly fond of being some sort of weird beard for my almost fiancée’s gay love for his soul mate brother.” Jess snapped.

Castiel stared at her for another moment before her brain caught up with what she had just said.

“Oh MY GOD! I told you, I totally just told you, and you have to tell Dean because something horrible is going to happen if you don’t because something horrible always happens in cases like this if you don’t. And Sam is totally going to just screw this all up because Sam always messes up like that, and even though it is kind of an adorable trait, I really think that he…”

“Jessica! Enough!” Castiel’s normally mild voice boomed in the small room.

“Sorry. Sorry. Sometimes I run at the mouth when I get excited.” Jess apologized with a tiny smile.

“I would tell Dean if I could, but I am prevented by the same power that keeps you silent.”

“You’ve died too?”

“Yes. Almost everybody that has ever met the Winchesters has died.”

“Great. So, uh, you got pulled out of your grave too?”

“No. God saved me.”

Jess laughed.

“I do not understand your humor.”

“I… it’s nothing. So, if God saved you shouldn’t you be exempt from Sam’s powers? I mean, God, you know?”

“I am exempt from Sam’s powers. It is my vessel that is not.”

“Your vessel?” Jess frowned. Her headache had never really abated, and now it was escalating.

“I am an angel, but I need to reside in a human body to be effective in my work on Earth.”

“So you’re not, like, a fallen angel or anything, are you?”

Castiel frowned at her. “It is complicated.”

“Great.”

“My status as an angel is unimportant at this juncture. The point is that Samuel Winchester’s powers only work on dead humans – be they bodies or souls. They work better on demons because in the twisting of their souls, they lose their inherent free will. They give it up to Lucifer.”

Castiel paused for a moment then his lips twitched a little bit. “I believe that Dean would make an inappropriate remark there.”

“So you’re an angel, and you’re wearing a human suit, so Sam can stop you from telling Dean because your human suit has been dead?” Jess’s mind wanted the clarification even though it was also hastily pointing out that calling Castiel ‘Mr. Suit Guy’ was way more ironic than she originally thought.

“Yes. I could speak to Dean in my true form, but there are… language barriers to that. I attempted to speak to Chuck, but he vehemently refused to encourage such behaviors and insinuated that I had at some point replaced him with another Chuck. I believe he has caused himself brain damage with all the drinking.”

Jess decided not to ask who ‘Chuck’ was. He was probably a leprechaun or something equally as terrifying. “So you can’t just, I don’t know, wear another human for a while? One that hasn’t been dead?”

“To find another vessel would be difficult, and I would risk this one decomposing to the point that I could no longer wear it. Still, your suggestion is actually sensible, and I feel foolish for not having considered it.”

“So, is that a yes?”

Castiel just vanished instead of answering her question. Jess sighed and grabbed her jacket and the pizza money that Dean had left her.

Screw food. She needed a drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lisa was peeling the potatoes that she was making for dinner a bit more vengefully than was warranted. Ben was still mad at her for making Dean ‘go away’ and was sulking in his room, playing with the deck of cards that Dean had bought him instead of with the brand new gaming system that she had given him not even a week ago.

It particularly irked her because the gaming system had been a pure guilt purchase, and if Ben had any decency as a child, he would at least play with the bribe his mother had purchased for him.

“Lisa Braeden, I need your assistance,” a gravelly voice rumbled from behind her.

She felt that shrieking and throwing a potato at the disheveled man in front of her was a perfectly rational reaction.

Even though she could admit that a tuber and a breast cancer awareness peeler might not be sufficient weaponry to defeat an apparently homeless accountant who could break into her home unannounced, she was a flexible girl. She could work with what she had.

And what she needed was to keep the obviously drug addicted man away from her son.

“Who are you? What do you want?” She fairly screeched the last part of her question to cover the sound of Ben’s concerned voice floating out of his room.

Of course, yelling more just ensured that her son came running.

“Mom?”

“Ben, go to the neighbor’s.” She spat, not taking her eyes off the intruder for a second.

“I am Castiel. Dean Winchester is my friend.” The intruder announced.

“Dean doesn’t live here anymore.”

“I know that.”

“Why are you here then?” Lisa reiterated her question. In truth, she would’ve been less scared if the man hadn’t known Dean.

“Dean says he’s an angel, and he wants to know why the hell you’re here.” Ben’s voice had the flat quality that it has always had when he’s reading out loud, and Lisa glanced out of the corner of her eye at her son.

He was very much not at the neighbor’s house. He was also going to be in trouble once the homeless-drunken-accountant-angel guy left.

“I told you that you weren’t allowed to talk to Dean!” Lisa was embarrassed the moment that the words left her mouth because there were more important things to be thinking about, and from the looks that both Ben and the Castiel guy shot her, they both knew it too.

“Yeah? So? I’m not talking am I? I’m texting. You’re the one who still has his cell number in your phone.” Ben’s tone was snotty and a touch defiant.

Her child was in so, so much trouble.

“I need to borrow your mother for a while.” Castiel stated, apparently choosing to ignore Lisa’s sidebar into parenting mode.

“‘Borrow’ me? For what?” Lisa was pretty sure that her voice had never sounded that incredulous before. Not even when the doctor confirmed her pregnancy, and she had to face the truth that she was about to become a single mother.

“Dean wants to know the same thing.” Ben piped in from where he was still stubbornly staring at the phone.

“I need an alternate vessel to borrow for a while. My current one is not capable of performing the task that I need to accomplish.”

Lisa was pretty sure she had never had a more surreal conversation. “What?”

“Ummm, Dean says the same thing only with a lot of words that I’m not supposed to say, and I think that is supposed to be a text drawing of a really long knife.”

“I don’t even know if you’re a good angel or not!” She continued to address Castiel because, really, she didn’t give a flying fuck what Dean Winchester was typing in text messages to her son.

Castiel’s “I am,” was overshadowed by Ben’s, “There are bad angels?”

Lisa was going to have to drag her son to church on Sunday. She didn’t care if she had to listen to the reverend sneak in several comments about premarital sex, and the hardships of single parenthood. Ben obviously needed a little more religious schooling -especially now that their association with Dean was bringing angels calling.

“Uh, Dean wants to talk to you. At least I think that is what this says. I don’t think he texts well when he’s angry.”  Ben sounded confused, and Lisa wasn’t sure whether it was herself or Castiel that Dean wanted to talk to. Then again, Ben probably didn’t know either.

“Why do you need me to be your vessel?” She chose to ask the angel instead of trying to puzzle out Dean of all people.

“I told you,” Castiel began, but Lisa cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand – the one still grasping the peeler.

“No. What is it that your current body can’t do? And if you say sleep with a man…”

“Mom! Gross!”

Lisa’s not so humble that she’s not proud that she just grossed her son out. And really? Dean is a good looking guy and a genius in the sack. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was making an angel want to give him a go.

“I cannot tell you that. I cannot possess you like a demon could. It takes an act of faith from the human vessel. If I tell you the outcome, then there will be no faith.”

Castiel sounded like he was telling the truth, on the other hand, he didn’t seem to have that large of a range of facial expression that Lisa could tell if he wasn’t telling the truth.

Lisa’s gut told her that he was at the very least manipulating the truth, but she wasn’t sure if that was just because she’s paranoid in general or just paranoid about anybody that knows Dean.

“Ask Dean if I can trust him.” Lisa instructed her son. When Castiel opened his mouth to complain, she wavedthe peeler at him again, “It is still faith. You never said who I had to trust here.”

“He says yes and wants to know why you’re asking that question. He also says that one of you better, uh, fucking call him right now.” Ben’s voice was starting to fill back in with his hero worship tone that he always got after spending more than five minutes with Dean, and Lisa was really just tired of it all.

Also? There was no fucking way she was going to let Dean fucking Winchester order her around like that. Infuriating little…

“Okay, angel face, take me for a spin.”

Castiel frowned at her. “Was that supposed to be a yes?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Furious didn’t begin to describe how Dean felt at the moment. First Jess got all weird on him and called him an idiot. Then Bobby wouldn’t let him out of eyeshot for hours like Dean was going to go try to kill Hades with a machete.

Then his damn dog escaped from its kennel, and when Dean found him? Yeah, the traitor was sitting at the freaking brother stealing weirdo’s feet in a park fetching a goddamn ball.

Then Ben texted him on Lisa’s phone, and he was going to freaking kill Cas.

“Dean,” Lisa’s voice was unusually monotone and raspy. Dean would’ve known it was Cas from that clue alone if he was so stupid as to miss that she had suddenly traveled across several states and was standing right next to Dean in his motel room.

“Cas, what that hell are you doing in…”

“Sam is lying to you.” Castiel cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand.

“Is that a potato peeler?”

“Dean! Pay attention!”

“I am. No shit the guy is lying to me, Cas. You didn’t need to hitch a ride with my ex to tell me that.”

“No. Listen. Sam is lying to you. Your brother’s soul hasn’t departed his body since the last time that he died, and I think you remember that occasion.”

“Cas, I don’t know what kind of angel weed you’ve been smoking, but…”

“There are no ‘buts’ here Dean, except for the kind that is your head.”

“What?”

Castiel’s hands come up to rest on Dean’s shoulders, his ‘earnest’ expression doing really weird things to Lisa’s face. “I can see his soul, Dean. It is completely intact.”

Dean shook his head in denial. “Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to me.”

“He would if he thought it was the best thing for you. He would if you were the most important person in the world to him.”

“You’re wrong. Sam wouldn’t think that’s the best thing. He knows what, how I feel about the, and he knows me better than that. He wouldn’t let me think that he’s trapped in Hell. He knows that I don’t… we could work through whatever’s happened to him.” Dean rambled, his guts churning in fear and his heart trying to feel both broken and hopeful at the same time.

“Surely you cannot be so blind that you do not understand what I am speaking about.”

“Did you just call me stupid? Because I’ve got to tell you that I am up to here with people telling me that these days.” Dean snapped as he jerked his hand roughly at the top of his head.

Castiel sighed, and his mouth twisted with displeasure. “I do not have time for this. Jimmy no longer occupies my vessel. The longer I am away from it, the more difficult it will be for me to return to it. I am comfortable with it and do not wish to find a new permanent one.”

“That’s creepy.”

“It has occurred to you, has it not, that you have spent time in Hell? Abducted, if you will, from the Earth? And that while not a virgin you are not experienced in the ways of homosexuality? Essentially an innocent? And that you are neither a soldier of Heaven nor Hell, but a staunch defender of the Earth?”

Dean stared at Cas for a moment before his brain finally caught up to what Cas was, in Dean’s opinion, badly intimating.

“Dude! I am NOT a girl! And, and that’s gross! Totally and completely… he’s my brother! And you need to cut down on the number of questions that you use in a sentence.”

“Persephone, in legend, was the niece of Hades, so the incestuous nature of your union would also be in line.”

“Cas. I’m gonna say this one time. There. Is. No. Union. And if that is Sam that’s been, who’s been… The last thing that I’m going to be doing to that kid’s face is kissing it with anything other than my fist.”

“Dean, we do not have time for your petty squabbles. I do not think that Sam knows the great danger that his desire to protect you has placed on himself and those he cares about. I can see his soul. If I can see, it then other angels can as well. If one of my siblings that has foolishly cast their lot with demons were to see him, there is a very good chance that they will form a plan of attack that none of you will be ready for.”

“Fuck you, Cas.”

Castiel’s frown looked out of place on Lisa’s face, but instead of arguing any further with Dean, he vanished.

Dean looked down at his phone and contemplated texting Lisa or Ben to make sure that they were okay, but he figured that Lisa wouldn’t appreciate it.

And truthfully? He just didn’t have the energy for anything other than getting drunk and passing out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun burned way too brightly into Dean’s eyelids the next morning. He tried rolling over to make it hurt less, but all that the movement did was remind him why moving quickly when you have a hangover was a bad idea.

His stomach swished, and then clenched when he remember why exactly it was that he had gotten so drunk the night before.

If Cas was right then, that…

Fuck, he didn’t think that Sam would ever be that cruel to him again, but Sam’s head had always been screwed on a little funny. Part of Dean worried that it was his fault, but Sam would blame their dad if he even acknowledged that he had a problem at all.

At the moment, Dean was pretty willing to blame John Winchester for just about anything in their lives because he just did not want to contemplate the possibility that he had encouraged Sam to be so dependent on him that he’d…

Dean’s head throbbed again, and for a while he allowed himself to indulge in the feeling. As long as it felt like his brain was trying to dig its way out of his skull with a spoon, he didn’t have to spare the brain cells to think about what Cas had told him.

He also didn’t have to think about the fact that he wasn’t nearly as repulsed by the idea of being… that to Sam as he should be. Maybe it was just all the other shit that had been handed to him in his life. Maybe it was the fact that there had never been anybody more important to Dean than Sam.

Even if he put his imagination into it, Dean couldn’t see himself loving anybody more in the future. And that future included the admission that his own brother had been letting him mourn his passing when he wasn’t actually gone. That he would let Dean wallow in his pain and guilt instead of letting him know that he was alive. That he wasn’t possessed any longer.

Dean knew that Sam wasn’t okay. He couldn’t be after how the last year before the end had gone, but Sam should’ve known that Dean was the first person he should go running to. That Dean would never let him down.

Only, that wasn’t really true, now was it? Dean had let Sam down. He had been on the verge of giving Sam that great big letdown, and yeah Dean hadn’t gone through with it because of Sam’s faith in him. But had he ever really told Sam where that stemmed from?

Sam had told him that he didn’t see family the same way that Dean did. If he didn’t know that Dean would do…

Fuck.

Apparently hangovers had lost their power to shut Dean’s brain off. That really reached a whole new level of suck.

With an irritated grunt, Dean shoved himself out of the bed and stumbled into the motel shower. After fumbling around with the ancient knobs, a tepid spray of water started to come down on his aching head.

If it were any other day, he’d think about jerking off, but it wasn’t any other day. His brain was bound to conjure images of Sam’s naked ass or his giant paws or lips, and then he was going to have big brother guilt for the rest of the day.

He didn’t need big brother guilt when he went to kick so-called-Sam’s ass. He needed to be in control of his righteous fury so that he could really give maybe-Sam what for.

Then, afterwards, he was going to stick his tongue so far down that kid’s throat that it wouldn’t be funny. Because it had been ages since Dean had gotten a really good kiss, and Lisa had tried, but she just couldn’t possibly kiss like Sam could kiss.

Dean had seen his Sammy kiss, and the boy knew what he was…

Dean’s eyes glared threateningly down at his now also aching other head. God. He really hated his body.

Of all the times to decide that it wanted a little something, it had to pick when he was thinking of Sam. It was enough to give a guy a complex.

Grudgingly, because it had been a few days was all, Dean wrapped his hand around his dick and gave it a tug. It felt like miniature fireworks were exploding all over his skin.

Dean yanked his hand away viciously and tried to convince himself that whatever had just happened had not just happened because it was weird and not the way he normally felt when jerking off.

Ever since he had gotten back from his stint in Hell, sex hadn’t been the same, it hadn’t felt as good. He hadn’t felt as sated with his one night stands.

He had convinced himself that it was just that he was older and had been through so much. It was just that it was time that he settled down and looked for a relationship. Not that he had been planning on living long enough to have a relationship, but that was what aging guys did.

Lisa was supposed to have been his solution. She was a great person. She had a kid he liked. She was fantastic in the sack.

Only, it hadn’t worked out so great. Sex with her had been standard. She was still as agile as ever, but it hadn’t been that satisfying, loving stuff that he’d read about in old magazines at the laundromat.

Part of him had figured it was just the constant mourning for Sam that put a damper on his love life.

In truth, part of him was still convinced that was the case. A trip through Hell and then having to watch the most important person in your world go there would put anybody’s libido into a tailspin.

Knowing that Sam was out of Hell was bound to revive the old sex drive a bit. Granted, circumstances indicated that Sam was being a big, giant, brother hurting douche, but Dean hadn’t let that get in the way of loving Sam before.

His cock was just happy that Sam wasn’t being tortured, and it was doing its thing to celebrate.

Nodding in agreement with his thoughts, Dean wrapped his hand back around his cock and gave it another tug. Fireworks again.

And, okay, that was just not normal for him. That bubbly, sparkly feeling was all wrong. He’d never felt that before, pre or post Hell, and it was too coincidental that the new sensation was starting up right after the weirdness of the conversation with Castiel the night before.

With a sharp jerk of his hand, Dean wrenched the shower over to cold. He could feel the water temperature drop slightly right before a stream of icy coldness hit him, and he was reminded of exactly why he hated to use cold showers.

It put him in a bad mood. Well, a worse mood than having a hangover and learning that his beloved brother had been lying to him had put him in.

Dean stumbled out of his shower and stood shivering in the bathroom for a while, glaring daggers at his reflection in the small mirror that the motel provided.

He was pissed.

He was so totally going to kick Sam’s ass.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam’s room was at the other end of the motel from the one that Bobby had gotten for him. At the time of their arrival at the establishment, Dean had been relieved to be out of the hospital, and hadn’t stopped to think about the reasons why some sort of mythical god made flesh was hanging out at some crappy dive.

When he’d gotten a little better, he’d just been preoccupied with trying to keep himself from killing Hades until after they were done dealing with the whole angel-demon revolution via kidnapping thing.

Now that he thought about it, there really shouldn’t be any damn reason for ‘Hades’ to get a crappy room at a crappy motel or driving around in some beat up old clunker.

Even if Dean went with the theory that the supernatural powers that Hades had been throwing around didn’t include teleportation, a guy that was commanding the likes of Crowley around had to have the ability to get a nicer rig.

More concerning was that Dean hadn’t even noticed that Hades hadn’t exactly been living in style despite lording it over one very rich demon.

Dean would say it was the stress getting to him, but he knew better. He’d been under severe stress since he was four. He had been trained to notice details because missing a detail in a fight was what made the difference between a live hunter and a dead one.

There was no way that he had just missed those things because his mind was busy with its homicidal rage.

That meant that Sam had been using his nifty powers on Dean. And the closer that Dean got to the other end of the motel, the more pissed that he got about that because he was going to beat Sam bloody over this one.

Right after he hugged him and held him and kissed those stupid lips sens…

Okay, so he was going to go straight for the ass kicking. It would be better that way. They could regroup and bond over beers and hospital painkillers.

“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!” Sam’s voice echoed in the parking lot, and Dean saw the manager pull the shades shut to the main office.

It was a good omen that the manager didn’t care because Dean was fairly certain that whatever fight was going on - they didn’t want the police showing up. Sometimes it paid to stay at the places with questionable reputations.

On the other hand, the sound of Sam yelling meant that Dean was probably going to have to postpone his ass kicking activities.

Putting a little more energy into his walk, he cleared the corner of the building that was obstructing his view.

Sam was standing on the cracked and crumbling asphalt of the parking lot. He was glaring at Castiel who was standing mere inches from him. Bobby and Jess were perched on the hood of Sam’s purloined and rusty Buick, and Dean felt hope well up within him at the sight.

If Sam was yelling at Cas, then there was a good chance that his brother place putting plans were back on the horizon.

“What is it?” Castiel asked calmly as he waved a necklace in front of Sam’s face.

“A protection charm,” Sam bit out.

“It is not like any protection charm that I’ve seen before.”

“Well, I guess that you haven’t seen everything, now have you? But what you have done is left the Braedens unprotected. Do you truly think that they deserve that? Or do you trust that they will be guarded and watched over by your oh so helpful brethren?”

Dean winced a little at that because it was a low blow even if Sam was on high moral ground. It was just plain nasty when he wasn’t and was instead running around, messing with people’s heads.

Castiel was opening his mouth to reply, when his eyes settled on Dean.

“Perhaps we should consult Dean on the matter. They were, after all, his family.”

Dean fought not to look surprised at Castiel’s statement. Cas could apparently put in a few digs himself.

“Actually, I think that I don’t really care about some damn charm.” Dean said as he got up close to the both of them.

“You don’t?” Cas sounded confused.

“No,” Dean said simply before he swung his fist up and clocked Sam one.

And, okay, that wasn’t exactly what he had planned. There had been actual talking and confrontation involved before the fists started flying. But that wasn’t how it seemed to be going, and it was a little too late to ask for a do over.

Then again, it was probably better that Dean didn’t try talking. The whole discussion thing didn’t work out all that well for him all that often. Sam would tell him that was because he didn’t ever practice the skills. He would say that not talking and suppressing stuff was really unhealthy, so when anything did come out, it didn’t come out in a good way and created more havoc.

Sam, though, didn’t have any room to make that argument at the moment, and Dean was hankering for a fight.

Only Sam wasn’t hitting back. He was just standing there trying to look calm and sympathetic, but now that Dean was looking, he could see the hurt in Sam’s face that had nothing at all to do with the pain that he had to be in before he was on the receiving end of Dean’s right hook.

“Dean,” Sam began.

And Dean punched him again.

Jess was making some sort of noise and Bobby was yelling at Dean, but they weren’t stopping him, so he just hit Sam a third time, and Dean got to see blood start to drip out of Sam’s nose to join the blood welling up from the cut that he’d put on Sam’s lips.

The next thing that Dean knew, he had his fists wrapped up in Sam’s shirt and his tongue was pushing past those lips to lick at the inside of Sam’s mouth.

Sam pushed gently back at him as if trying to object but only because it was expected of him not because he wanted to. Dean had experience with that sort of reaction. He’d been around enough to know the difference between an actual rejection and a polite one. Sam was being polite.

Dean didn’t want Sam to be polite. He wanted him to be an ass because Dean was pissed at Sam, and he wanted to be absolutely righteous in his anger.

And he was going to get on that just as soon as he quit sucking on Sam’s tongue.

Sam whimpered a little bit and pushed at Dean again, but this time he was pushing with his tongue and it was just trying to get farther into Dean’s mouth.

Dean pulled back to nip reprovingly at Sam’s bottom lip, to remind Sammy of who was in charge of the kissing, and then shoved their mouths back together with more vigor.

The coppery taste of blood from the split lip that Dean had bestowed upon his brother had barely been processed by Dean’s now lascivious tongue when a hand fastened itself none too gently on his shoulder and yanked him away from his brother.

Dean vaguely heard Bobby shouting and Jess carrying on and Cas, well, being eerily calm and Cas like.

He’d just, he had been, and there was… And his fucking cock was pressing against the inside of his pants like it thought it could pop out from sheer pressure.

Sam’s voice started entering the fray of yelling voices, and Dean glanced over at him to see him trying to push his way past a very irate looking Bobby to get to Dean.

“You stay the HELL away from me.” Dean snapped when Sam succeeded in pushing past Bobby and began to move in Dean’s direction.

Sam’s face fell, and hurt filled his features. “Dean.”

“Don’t I don’t want to hear it. Any of it! You get out of here, and you, you just… get away from me!” Dean shouted as he stumbled back towards his room.

There was a large part of him that was busy pointing out what a bad idea separating from Sam always turned out to be. It was also pointing out that his last words to his brother were fairly immature.

The problem was that there was an even larger part of him that didn’t want to deal with the memories that he’d just made.

Dean made it back to his room without turning backwards or trying to listen to the words being spoken behind him. Once he closed the door, he flopped down on his still unmade bed. He did not want to think about anything. If he’d still been in possession of any actual alcohol, he’d be downing it as fast as possible.

But he had finished what he had left the previous night, and his head was simultaneously pounding from his residual hangover and spinning from what had just happen. What he had just done was, was…

“Fuck!” Dean cursed as he slammed his fist into the lumpy and hard mattress. He didn’t care that he was acting childishly. It was a far sight better than acting like an incestuous pervert. Or, he guessed, an abusive, incestuous pervert.

The door to the room opened and closed. Dean did not look up to see who was coming in, but the sound that the footsteps made in the room told him that it was Bobby.

The older man sat down on the edge of the mattress next to Dean, but Dean refused to look at Bobby. He just did not want to know what his substitute father was thinking.

“Sam took off in that monstrosity of a car of his.” Bobby stated flatly.

Dean grunted in response.

“Jess went with him, in case you were interested. Called us all a bunch of morons and said she’d call as soon as they settled somewhere. It’ll save us some money I guess. I can just stay here with your sorry ass instead of camping out in her room feeling ten kinds of uncomfortable.”

“She’ll be safe enough with Sam.” Dean commented.

“Yeah,” Bobby agreed, “assuming the little asshole doesn’t decide to screw with her head.”

Dean snorted a little in amusement. “Big asshole,” he corrected.

“Yeah, well, I’ve always had a soft spot for you boys. I like to cut slack when I can. But I guess I don’t need to be telling you anything about Sam and having weaknesses for him.”

Dean winced. “That was a low blow, Bobby.”

“Ain’t nothing else that gets through to you when you’re like this. Besides, I’m mad as a hornet at your brother right now, and you sent him packing.”

Dean didn’t say anything in response to that.

“I am uncertain whether  I am more surprised at you and your brother’s consistent stupidity or the fact that you remain alive in spite of it.” Castiel intoned.

Dean finally propped himself up on his elbows just enough to glare at the angel. “Dude, you were just in the parking lot. There are these things that we call doors.”

“I am aware of them. I fail to see what that has to do with your poor handling of the situation with Sam.” Castiel said.

Dean groaned and flopped back down on the bed. “I don’t know why I kissed him, okay? It was a, a thing.”

“A thing?” Bobby almost squeaked, and any other time Dean would’ve found the tone funny.

Dean turned his head to glare at Bobby or rather Bobby’s ass as Bobby was still sitting perfectly upright on the bed.

“Yeah. A thing,” Dean drawled out slowly, daring Bobby to contradict his choice of words.

“Let me get this straight. You start playing tonsil hockey with your brother, and the next thing I know I’ve got a backlog of information just creeping into my skull that tells me it’s really Sam in there, and I have to pull you off of him before I get a peep show I’d rather not see, and you call that a ‘thing’?”

Bobby’s words made it seem so much worse than… okay, Dean could admit that it really did sound that bad.

Dean shrugged in reply. He figured it lost some of its eloquence given that he was still flat on his back, but he didn’t care all that much.

“We should really be more concerned about Dean sending Sam away. He is vulnerable in this state.”

“Vulnerable?” Dean rasped in incredulity as he finally came up off the bed and all the way onto his feet. “The guy was freaking causing a thunderstorm a few days ago and was playing demon electrician at Bobby’s before that! I don’t think he’s very vulnerable.”

“He wasn’t causing the storm, merely harnessing its power into a localized area. His powers are not that great. And I was not speaking about Sam. I was speaking about you.”

“Not that great… wait, you know something about these powers, and you didn’t share?” Dean asked.

“I spoke to Chuck earlier. He, for obvious reasons, feels uncomfortable speaking with you about what he has seen. It was what I was attempting to speak with Sam about earlier.”

“Chuck saw a fancy necklace at Lisa’s?” Dean’s face showed his skepticism.

Castiel shifted his weight ever so slightly and almost looked abashed. “No, I found it earlier. I… Sam was very persuasive in changing the nature of our discourse. I am growing tired of him interfering with my host’s brain.”

“Can we go back to the part where Dean is in danger?” Bobby asked from where he was still sitting on the bed.

“No! No, we cannot do that. That subject is most emphatically not open for discussion.” Dean stated as he stared meaningfully at Castiel.

Cas ignored him.

“Sam has taken Jessica with him. It is doubtful that he has let his minions in on his scheme, so their protection efforts are likely not encompassing Dean at the moment.” Castiel told Bobby.

“Dean’s a hunter! He doesn’t need…” Bobby trailed off, and Dean looked away unwilling to see the look of comprehension filling in on the other man’s face.

“Oh,” Bobby said after a moment.

“Somebody shoot me.” Dean muttered.

“That would be highly inadvisable in a myriad of ways.” Castiel informed him.

“How come I didn’t see this before?” Bobby asked.

“Most likely because Sam was influencing you not to think of it. As he was Dean.”

Anger welled up again on Dean’s insides. In the extreme confusion of trying to swallow his baby brother’s tonsils, his anger over what Sam had been doing had sort of drifted to the back of his brain.

Bobby muttered something under his breath, and Dean felt a rush of purely juvenile satisfaction that Sam was now officially in deeper shit with Bobby than Dean was. Fucking with people’s minds was obviously a greater sin than a little homosexual, incestual kissing.

 “So what else did Chuck have to say?” Dean asked, more than willing to pursue all the intricacies of Sam’s newfound and abused power rather than his own confusing desire to have Sammy all to himself in a very weird way.

“He confirmed that your relationship with Sam should mitigate the negative impacts that his powers are having on him. Chuck also asked that you send him ‘some of the good stuff’ as payment for ‘having to see that shit.’” Castiel spoke so calmly that Dean was almost able to believe that Cas wasn’t talking about what he thought the angel was talking about.

Unfortunately, Bobby wasn’t in the mood to ignore the implications of what ‘relationship’ meant. “Wait now. You’re saying that the reason I’m all of a sudden in control of my faculties is because Dean decided that he was going to play kissy face with his brother?”

“No.” Castiel answered.

Dean blew out a relieved sigh, but regretted it an instant later.

“You have always been in control of your faculties. You were just being manipulated. When Dean ingested some of Sam’s blood, it created the first link of power between them. I believe that the shock of this transfer is what caused Sam’s influence on you to break.”

“He drank his blood?” Bobby’s voice sounded really strained.

Shrewd eyes turned to Dean a second later, and Bobby repeated his question directly, “You drank his blood?”

“No! No, there was, it was just from his lip!” Dean protested. “It wasn’t like I was, you know, getting my vampire on.”

“Quite frankly I’m surprised that it worked. It is not exactly the required substance of ingestion.” Castiel added.

“Right, well, I don’t think that you need to worry about that. I mean, I don’t think that Sam is carrying around any pomegranates with him.” Dean snapped while he willed his skin to not show how embarrassed he was by the whole thing.

There was silence in the room for a while before Bobby’s disbelieving voice cut through the air. “Tell me you ain’t that stupid.”

“You know, I’m getting really tired of people calling me that. Like, supremely tired of it.” Dean said wearily.

Cas cleared his throat before speaking. “Dean, you are aware of how legend says Hades and Persephone become tied together.”

“Dude! Of course I do. I just mentioned it, remember?” Dean snapped, irritated that on top of being called stupid, there was an angel in the room being exactly that, and Bobby wasn’t calling Cas on it.

“And you recall there being great forests of trees in Hell?” Cas prompted.

Dean rolled his eyes and glared because the obvious answer to that was a big, fat ‘no.’

“So if one was to ignore the pomegranate part and focus on the seed part…” Cas trailed off, for once looking uncomfortable.

For a moment Dean was sort of impressed that Castiel hadn’t lost all of his gained humanity when he’d been brought back to life. Then he realized what exactly it was that Cas was intimating.

“Fuck.” Dean muttered as he rubbed a hand across his face.

“Technically, I believe that the term would be…”

“He knows what the term would be.” Bobby quickly interrupted, his face red under his beard.

“I need a drink.” Dean stated as he moved towards the door.

“I think I’ll join you.” Bobby said as he followed.

Dean stopped at the door an lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Castiel.

“I need a liquor store. If you need me, I’ll be in Boise.”

“Boise? Why…” Castiel disappeared before Dean could finish his sentence.

Bobby gave Dean a little shove. “Get your gay ass moving.”

Dean moved, but he was going to make Bobby buy the first drink for that one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You don’t have to keep watching me you know. I’m not going to run off and leave.” Sam’s voice was irritated when he spoke, but Jess ignored it.

“Of course you will. Running is what you do. It’s apparently a family trait.”

“Hey! Dean was, is… he has a right to be upset and confused.”

Jess quirked an eyebrow at her ex-lover. “It’s really sort of sweet, the way that you keep defending him. I mean, if you had hit me, the last thing I’d have ever let you do was make out with me right afterwards.”

“Yeah, well, you never played god with my mind.” Sam mumbled. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean, I just… Dean’s my whole world. He’s always been… And Bobby was a better father than my own was. I just didn’t want them to have to deal with this. I thought, I thought I could spare them from having to clean up after me. Only now they both know, so it was all for nothing.”

Jess grinned a little at that. “Yeah, well, I sort of helped things along with Dean.”

“What?” Sam’s face was a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. I told you that I was going to find a way to tell him if you didn’t.” Jess reminded him.

“You told him?!” Sam squeaked.

“Well, not exactly. Castiel told him. I think. I mean, I suggested that he find a non-dead vessel, and then the next day Dean’s hitting you and sucking your balls out through your throat, so I’m guessing that means that angel guy was successful.”

“Okay, first? That was gross. Secondly? I can’t believe you did that to me!”

“I know, I mean what kind of jilted ex-girlfriend am I? Sneaking around your manipulative and power hungry back to tell on you to your big, bad brother.”

“Dean’s not bad!” Sam protested.

Jess wondered briefly if she could dislocate something by rolling her eyes too hard, too often. “Did that trip to Hell cause you to develop some sort of disorder where you only listen to one thing at a time? Because, really? That last sentences was all about the reprimanding you for doing something bad.”

“But, Dean knows.” Sam whined.

Jess felt her eyebrows try to remove themselves from her forehead. “Are you high? You’re acting like a teenager. A whiny, pimply teenager who can’t take responsibility for anything.”

Sam flushed and looked down at his feet. “I get kind of emotionally out of control when I… use too much power?”

“Was that a question?” Jess stated, and she was horrified that talking to Sam was actually turning her into her mother.

Sam huffed and gave her a halfhearted glare. “I may have tried to influence too many people at once today. Forcing minds isn’t like causing electrical surges or making a storm worse. The more I try to control other beings, the more that I lose control over myself.” He admitted softly.

“And you’ve been keeping Crowley on a leash while simultaneously keeping Dean and Bobby misdirected.” Jess filled in for him.

Sam nodded. “I think that’s why you were able to figure it out. I mean, no offense, but both Dean and Bobby know me better. But with Cas showing up and you and then the whole demon fight…”

“That is why you need Dean. Why you should have told him in the first place, and why you should be going back to him right now.”

“No! No, Jess, that’s why I can’t involve him. He deserves better than this. I’ve been his responsibility since he was four years old. Dean will do this just because he has to do it.”

“Yeah? Well forgive me for saying it, but I don’t care. Because you’re going to a scary place here, Sam. You’re not thinking right. The man I knew, the man that I fell in love with and thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with? He wouldn’t be doing this. You need somebody to help you. And given what you can do with your mind? The world needs you to have that somebody too.”

“I can’t do that to Dean.”

“Dean isn’t more important than the rest of the world!”

“Well he is to me!” Sam roared as he threw a pillow across the room. Shaking, he covered his face with his hands and sat down on the edge of the bed. “He is to me.” He repeated softly.

Jess sighed and went to sit next to Sam. She slid a hand along his shoulders and gently tugged so that he could rest his head against one of her own. His much larger body had to bend a lot to make the contact, but he didn’t complain. Jess figured that was just as much a sign of as anything that Sam wasn’t in the right state of mind.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“What? Hell? Not much to tell. It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. I mean, I wasn’t the one being tortured, so I just had to find my way out past all of the demons torturing souls that I couldn’t help. When they realized that I wasn’t just a soul, that I actually had a body? There was a feeding frenzy while they tried to possess me, but they couldn’t because my warding was still intact.”

Sam paused and shifted a bit so that his head could rest more comfortably against her.

“They aren’t physical, not really, but after a while there were so many of them that I couldn’t move. It was like I was a character being suffocated in a movie and that sound track was the screams of other people. So I just, I pushed and the next thing I knew, I had demons worshipping me, trying to win my regard. It was worse than seeing the torture, you know? That all these evil things were trying to get on my good side. I was like an idol to them.”

“But you got out.” Jess reminded him.

“Yeah, I got out. But not before, before they started calling me Hades. They thought that I was the gatekeeper that could let them out, and I swore that I was going to be the one to keep them in. I was going to send as many of them back down there as possible, but when I got out, I found out that my power wasn’t exactly unlimited. So I decided to enlist Crowley’s help whether he wanted to give it or not. I figured I’d focus on keeping the ones that were already in Hell there for starters. I didn’t realize that task alone was more than I could handle.”

“And the thing with Dean?” Jess prompted after a moment of silence.

Sam shifted his head off her shoulder and straightened back up into a normal seated posture. He studied his thumbnail for a long moment and did not answer.

“Sam?”

“I always knew. I just… I think that I knew before I went down there. Before, before I left for college even.” He confessed.

“Oh.”

“I’m not sure that I knew what it was back then, but I knew that there was something wrong there. I didn’t have to cut ties with Dean, you know? I wanted to get away from hunting. I wanted to get away from my father and the life that he’d raised us in, but Dean would’ve let me have that. And normal people? They talk to their brothers when they call.”

“You never told me that Dean was calling.”

Sam’s lips twisted in a hollow facsimile of a smile. “He quit trying before you and I even met. I made him do that. I was horrible to him. I made him feel like he was the one that had done something wrong simply because he chose to keep hunting. Because he wanted to be there for our dad. Because he wanted a family, and I punished him for that.”

“I’m sure Dean doesn’t see it that way.” Jess comforted

Sam laughed. “Oh, I’m pretty sure he does. At least, he does now. Do you know what I told him? I told him that I didn’t see family the way that he did. And God help me, I don’t. I’ve always wanted things from Dean that I shouldn’t.”

Jess smiled a little. “Come on, Sam. Always? You had a long stretch of years when you were just a kid.”

Sam didn’t return her smile. “And I made Dean be everything to me then. I figured out how to get him to give me what I wanted, and I just kept taking. I never stopped, and when he asked for me to give something back? I wouldn’t do it. Fuck, Jess. It even had to be my idea and my quest to go hunting with him again.”

Jess sighed and pulled her hand away. “Well, now, I guess I can see where you feel like everything is your fault. I agree completely. You’re single handedly responsible for every bad thing that has ever happened in the world, and I think that stopping the apocalypse in no way mitigates any selfish desires that you have.”

“Jess…”

She held up a hand to silence him. “Look, until recently? You weren’t forcing Dean to do anything. It takes two people to have a relationship, Sam. And he could’ve stopped it if he wanted. Don’t tell me that he couldn’t have because your brother is scary stubborn and just a little mean.”

“He tried. I wouldn’t let him.”

“Bullshit. He didn’t want you to let him.”

“Why are you fighting so hard for this?” Sam asked her.

“Because I was a comparative literature major, and I’m a California free spirit? I like happy endings, Sam. If I was black and white about the way I see the world, I would never have cut you the slack that I did.”

“I’ve met a lot of free spirits. The majority of them wouldn’t advocate making the world a better place through fraternal nookie.” Sam pointed out.

Jess just grinned at him. “Well, I’m one in a million.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Walking the dog was an experience that should have been normal. Dean was sure that anybody else would find it mundane. Then again, he didn’t know that many people who actually owned a dog Gigantor’s size.

One thing Dean was certain of? His dog had gas as bad as said dog’s namesake. Stupid Sam and his stupid large body and stupid little grin that made Dean want to…

Dean cleared his throat and tugged on Gigantor’s leash, tugging the dog away from whatever it was that he had found so interesting to sniff.

The giant beast disagreed with moving on and started pulling on his end of the lead, trying to drag Dean back to the area he had been sniffing at.

“Aw, come on man. Don’t make me watch that dude on Animal Planet.” Dean complained as he tugged on the leash harder.

“And Sam thinks you’re a butch alpha male.”

Dean spun around to stare at Jess’s amused face.

“I know, I know. You’re surprised that you didn’t hear me come up to you. You’re the big, fearless hunter who should’ve heard the ditzy, Californian blonde approaching.”

Dean shrugged a little, because yeah, he’d been thinking that, but he wasn’t exactly comfortable with sharing those sorts of thoughts out loud.

“Look. I convinced Sam that hanging out in a rat infested motel room twenty miles away wasn’t a good idea and dragged his ass back here. But now that we’ve actually arrived, he isn’t much with getting out of that yellow monstrosity of a car. So I figure if he won’t get out to talk to you, I’m going to have to send you in. So give me the dog and go knock some sense into him.” Jess said as she held out an imperious hand.

Dean stared at her open palm for a while and wondered if she’d even breathed during her little monologue.

Jess snorted and wiggled her fingers in what Dean assumed was impatience. He begrudgingly handed the leash over to her, and grunted in irritation at his dog when the lumbering oaf trotted right up to Jess and started wagging his stupid gigantic tail at her. Unfaithful mongrel.

Dean began to stalk away from the pair when Jess’s light hand touched his arm. He stopped and arched an enquiring, yet glaring eyebrow at her.

“You might want to take these,” she said as she handed him a set of keys, “I wasn’t sure if Sam was actually going to lock himself in the car, and it might be a little awkward for you to keep picking the lock and having him shut it again.”

“And it won’t be if I use a key, and he does the same thing?” Dean asked even as his hand closed over the keys.

“Well, it won’t look as funny.” Jess told him before jogging off back the way that Dean had just come from. Gigantor followed happily after her, and Dean contented himself with thinking that at least the dog was going to be exhausted by the end of it.

Keys in hand, Dean stalked right up to the car. The windows were cracked open, and Sam was still sitting in the passenger seat. His face was set in his classic sulking pout, and he was glaring at the glove compartment like it was about to let loose a whole clan of fairies.

The driver’s side door was locked as Jess had predicted, but Sam didn’t reach over and slap the lock back down when Dean popped it open. Sam, in fact, didn’t even glance in Dean’s direction neither when the door cracked open nor when Dean slid into the seat and closed the door.

 “Wow. This is quite the car you’ve got going here. I can see the appeal. How long it take you to find a ride that smells like rotten bananas anyway?” Dean asked as he shifted on the lumpy seat.

The car was a hunk of junk. Seriously, he wasn’t even sure how a car seat could get lumpy in the first place.

Sam reached out a hand and traced the handle to the glove compartment. “You going to hit me again?” he mumbled softly.

“Dunno. Maybe. Probably not until we’re out of the car though. She’s not the Impala, but I think that she smells like she’s been through enough already without adding blood stains to the upholstery.”

Sam smirked a little and huffed out a breath that Dean knew was supposed to be a laugh, but he knew Sam well enough to realize that it wasn’t.

“You going to try to kiss me again?” Sam asked even quieter than his previous question.

And Hell, Dean would like very much to say ‘no’ to that, but the instant that the query was out of Sam’s mouth, Dean’s mind was all for the Technicolor replay of their last kiss. He could still feel Sam’s warm body pressed up against his, and he could still remember Sam’s taste. His dick, traitor that it was, perked up a little bit at the memory, and overall, Dean couldn’t say he wasn’t going to kiss Sam without there being the distinct possibility of him turning into a liar.

Of course, he was still the older brother in this situation. He was always going to be the older brother, and there was an errant little brother that needed his course corrected before they tackled the tricky question of how much fraternal nookie was going to happen.

“You going to try to make me your mind bitch again?” Dean asked in retaliation.

Sam harrumphed a little and slumped down further in the passenger seat. “I didn’t make you my bitch I just…”

“Dicked around with my brain like a giant douche?” Dean interrupted.

“It was for your own good.”

“Seriously? That’s your defense? Why didn’t you just give me a lobotomy while you were at it, huh? I’d be less likely to run around hunting monsters if I was some docile little puppy following Lisa around.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Sam protested.

“Then what was it like, Sam? Tell me, because I’m not seeing anything here other than you being the same spoiled brat that ran away from home. And if it wasn’t enough that you did it to me, you had to go and do it to Bobby too?”

“I… You’re making it sound like I’m the villain here. I’m not, you know. Maybe I didn’t make all the right choices, but it wasn’t like I was going around hurting people either. I was trying to protect you. Both of you. Did you think that Crowley just decided to give back Bobby’s soul out of the goodness of his heart or the hardness of his cock?” Sam’s voice was tense and defensive, and over all so much like Sam that part of Dean eased with the knowledge that he was at least back in familiar territory.

“First off? I thought you learned your lesson about good intentions. Secondly? Never, ever mention Crowley’s dick to me again. I just… don’t want to know, okay?”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, okay Dean, would you rather talk about your cock? Because it isn’t going to go away, you know?”

“I’m not talking to you about that right now. Right now we’re talking about how you need to stop playing around with people’s brains.” Dean tried to be stern in his reproach even though part of him wanted to jibber at the mere thought of what Sam had just said, and an equal part wanted to discuss the subject of his cock by engaging in bodily interaction.

“I can’t play around with people’s brains, Dean. I can only influence those who’ve been dead. And outside of our immediate circle there aren’t that many people that fit the bill. The rest are all ghosts or demons, and I don’t exactly feel sorry for them.”

Dean sighed and rubbed a thumb against his eyebrow. “Sam, you know that isn’t what I’m saying. Even playing around with demons can be a bad idea. Don’t you get that?”

Sam stared out the windshield in silence. His face was stony and a little pissed off in its expression. He turned angry eyes at Dean, but as soon as they focused on his brother’s face, they dropped to stare at the console instead.

“Yeah, I get that.”

Dean felt his eyebrows arch in surprise. “You do?”

Sam nodded, but didn’t look back up.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, but he didn’t reach out to force his brother’s gaze back in his face. He didn’t exactly trust himself when it came to touching Sam at the moment.

Hazel eyes slid back up to look at Dean’s face after another few minutes of silence and Dean was surprised to see tears in them.

Regardless of everything that Dean might have teased Sam about, they were both Winchesters. They didn’t do tears except in dire, hopeless situations. While the current situation was fucked six ways to Sunday, it certainly wasn’t on par with half of the crap that they’d gone through.

“I get it, Dean. I do. I just get around you, and I… God, Jess would be kicking my ass right now. We talked about this, you know? She read me the riot act about what I’d been doing, and I promised that I’d, you know, I’d get better.”

“Look, you can’t get better without help. I know that sounds like a load of crap coming from me, but I know a thing or two about trying to go through things alone. Guess what, it doesn’t work. It didn’t work for me with Hell, and I almost screwed the pooch with Michael. And let’s not forget your little quest with Ruby the Wonder Demon and your questionable beverage choices.”

“Dean…”

“No. Just no, Sammy. You need to pull your head out of your ass, and you’re going to need help doing it. You’ve got some people out there that want to help you do it. Problem is they’ve all been dead at some point, so you’re going to have to lay off the mojo with them.”

“I get that.” Sam agreed quietly.

“But?” Dean prompted.

“But it’s hard to do without you.”

“Dude, I’m right here. Not going anywhere. Pissed, but it wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve had to drag your stupid ass out of trouble.”

“No!” Sam’s protest caught Dean a bit off guard, not that it should have given how contrary and unreasonable Sam had been throughout their childhood.

“Excuse me?”

“Dean, you can’t, I won’t let you… You can’t want that, and I won’t, I can’t you…. No.”

“Great, well, why don’t you try that sentence again and in English this time?”

Sam’s face turned white then red then white with red splotches all over it. It wasn’t the most attractive of looks on him.

“I won’t let you do that to yourself.” Sam enunciated slowly.

“Drag my little brother’s ass out of trouble? Been doing that a long time, Sammy. You haven’t been able to stop me yet. In fact, it’s kind of my job.” Dean pointed out.

“Great,” Sam huffed, “now, not only do I feel like a giant pervert, I feel like a John.”

Dean, to his chagrin, seriously had a moment where he wondered what their father had to do with anything before he realized what Sam was actually saying.

 “Okay, well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve ever had in my mouth. And really, it wouldn’t even be the worst thing I’ve ever done. Overall, it isn’t anywhere near as bad as torturing souls, right?”

Sam looked scandalized at the mere thought of it. Dean was sort of surprised that Sam could still pull the look off given everything that they had both seen and done in the past few years.

“Dude! I am not letting you… Do you have any idea how many sexually transmitted diseases I’ve had?”

“Well, I was there for the syphilis with Pestilence. And I don’t think that the herpes with Gabriel was actually real. And you got treated for the crap that the poker dude gave you. Am I missing any?”

Sam glared at Dean in response, so Dean simply grinned back at him.

“You are not swallowing my junk.” Sam snapped defensively.

“Who said anything about deep throating? I’m good with just a blow job or I could, lick my hand off or something. I just need a few of your swimmers. I’ve probably already got whatever else you’ve got floating around in you anyway. What with all the power interrupting blood swallowing.”

“No, no swimmer swallowing. I mean it Dean. You aren’t doing this. Do you have any idea what will happen to you if we do this?”

“From what I’m told I get to be epically terrifying and tied to you for all eternity. Given that we seem destined to share the same space in Heaven, the eternity thing isn’t exactly a shock.”

Sam frowned at him. “Don’t joke about this. You don’t want to be my lover, and I don’t share well. And this power isn’t something I’d wish on anybody.”

Dean frowned right back at his brother. He wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of being Sam’s one true love or anything, but he also was pretty aware that they had a habit of taking brotherly devotion to extremes.

Lisa had pointed out to Dean that normal brothers don’t sell their souls to bring their little brother’s back from the dead. Apparently normal brothers would get drunk and angry and maybe go murder the bastards that killed their sibling, but damning themselves to Hell wasn’t a typical response.

At the time he was kind of kicking himself for telling her the story of Sam literally getting stabbed in the back, but now that he’d had time to ponder the whole binding himself to Sam thing, he could see that she sort of had a point.

Logically, he should be kicking up a way bigger fuss at the thought of basically marrying Sam by way of an oral sex act. He should be standing up and protesting something instead of letting his dick stand up and protest the denim in his jeans. It should have taken more than a couple nights of heavy drinking to adjust his world view to include providing conjugal rights to his Sammy.

Dean opened his mouth to inform Sam about his epiphany of their maybe not so normal behavior toward each other, but his brain got in the way of the message. What came out was a terse, “Who told you I didn’t want to be your lover?”

Sam looked at Dean like he was possessed. Then Dean felt a literal tug inside his mind. It pissed him off all over again, and he was about to berate Sam for using his dangerous mind powers when the tugging sensation stopped.

“Well, you’re not possessed.” Sam mumbled.

“No, we got tattoos to take care of that.” Dean grumbled.

“So you want to fuck me?” Sam’s tone was challenging and defiant.

Dean wasn’t stupid enough to answer that question. He’d lived with Lisa for almost a year. He’d gotten good at recognizing trick questions. Sam might be a girl, but he didn’t actually have ovaries, and he would never have anything on a real woman.

“I want to be with you in this.” Dean answered instead.

Sam bolted from the car.

Dean sighed and slouched back in the driver’s seat. At least it had gone better than anticipated.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“How’d it go?” Bobby asked as soon as Dean got back to their room.

“Great. He’s sworn of the mental manipulation, but it’s kind of a no-go on the seed sharing bit right now.” Dean answered bluntly.

Bobby blanched a little, but didn’t reach for the half empty bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. Dean figured it was just another sign that maybe he and Sam were gay and just didn’t know it. He was pretty sure that father figures weren’t supposed to accept the idea of their pseudo children having gay sex with each other. They definitely were not supposed to accept it so quickly.

“He still around?” Bobby’s voice was a touch more strained, but not that much.

“Yeah, Jess is pretty much bird dogging him right now. They’ve got a room about four doors down from here.”

Bobby grunted in acknowledgment. “Maybe we should move this back to my place. No sense wasting money renting out rooms here. Your mutt is going to get tired of being kenneled.”

Dean looked disbelievingly at Bobby. “You’re offering up your place for our wedding night?”

Bobby flushed a bit and squinted his eyes at Dean. “I figured that’s what the Impala’s for.”

And yeah, Dean can admit that he isn’t the classiest guy in the world, and he can maybe even cop to the fact that he might love his car a little too much. But he’s pretty sure that it would be tacky to have his first time with Sam be in the back of the Impala. There is too much history there.

There’s been blood and guts and harsh words shared in that car. Plus, Sam is not Anna. There are all sorts of logistical issues with two men over six feet tall trying to have sex in the back seat of a car. Even if the car is a classic and has a large backseat, neither Sam nor Dean are as flexible as they were when they were teenagers.

Granted, Dean knows that the only thing that he really needs to do is get Sam off and then swallow the evidence. He just doesn’t think he should treat their first time as some sort of clinical sex experiment or some twisted duty to the universe.

“I’m so gay.” Dean groaned as he reviewed the path that his brain had just taken.

“Aww, don’t take it so hard. You’re actually more of a pervert.” Bobby’s consolation didn’t sound sincere for some reason, and Dean thought that was unfair given that Bobby had no idea what Dean had just been thinking.

“I hate you.”

“Cheer up, son. You’ve screwed an angel and more women than I’ve ever thought of hitting on.  Sam’s done God knows what with Ruby, and that’s before the whole blood drinking mess. I’m thinking this might be a good thing for the two of you.”

“Have you been smoking something? Cas didn’t bring back some of the good stuff from his trip to Boise, did he?”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you think Boise would be the place to score really good weed in favor of the fact that you boys get addicted to much worse things.”

“Sam, Sam gets addicted to bad things.” Dean corrected.

“Yeah, and you’re addicted to Sam. It all makes sense in some strange and bizarre way if I ignore the fact that I actually know the two of you.” Bobby said.

“Sam doesn’t think so.”

“Sam’s an idjit who was playing demigod with his newfound super powers. Plus, he’s a Winchester, and your family isn’t known for their brains so much.”

“There a reason you’re insulting me?”

“Keeps me from imagining how whipped you’re going to be once Sam lets you in his pants.” Bobby answered bluntly.

Dean didn’t respond to that with anything other than an irritated stomp into the motel room’s tiny bathroom and a slam of the cheap door that separated it from the sleeping area. Because Bobby wasn’t right – Dean was pretty sure he’d been whipped for years.

~~~~~~~~

“Oh, oh! Oh, God yes!”

 The chanting woke Dean up out of a sound sleep. His first thought was that Bobby had a lot of nerve calling him a pervert when the old codger had brought a girl back to the motel room that he was sharing with his sort-of-son-like person. His second thought was a begrudging, go Bobby! Because, well, Bobby deserved a little happiness.

His third thought was that Bobby sure was snoring a lot for a guy that was currently moaning like a two dollar whore.

So, the sex noises weren’t Bobby’s. That was actually kind of a relief as Dean’s cock was pushing up against the seam of his boxers as a result of the porn dialogue that was going on in Dean’s head.

That was when Dean came awake enough to realize that the sex noises were literally in his head and not coming in by way of his eardrums. The noises also sounded a lot like Sam.

It didn’t take a veteran hunter to figure out that he was somehow mystically hearing Sam’s whatevers.

It also didn’t take a private eye to figure out that Sam was alone with Jess.

Dean’s vision went from seeing red to green and back to red again as he flip flopped between anger and jealousy. How dare they?

Sam was his. There shouldn’t be any hanky-panky going on. If Dean wasn’t allowed a gay freak out, then Sam sure the Hell wasn’t either. Sam could keep it in his pants.

And Jess! Jess knew how it was supposed to be, she shouldn’t be in there giving his…

“OH. GOD. DEAN!” Sam’s tingly lust and want practically flooded over Dean and shorted out his train of thought.

Okay. So either Sam was being a total douche and thinking about Dean while having sex with his ex-girlfriend, or Sam was being a total dick and jerking off in the same motel room as his ex-girlfriend while thinking about his brother.

Dean preferred the second option more.

He also needed to know. He might not have a right to know given that Sam had been fairly adamant about the whole not letting Dean bind them together thing, but Dean had never been that into technicalities. They were cosmically fated to be together or something stupid like that. As far as Dean was concerned, cosmic fating was just as good as an engagement, and you didn’t go screwing around on your intended without paying for it.

Plus, he was already awake and horny thanks to Sam’s sex thoughts. The only other options were jerking off and actually contemplating the fact that he could hear his brother’s thoughts in his head, or not jerking off and contemplating his weird psychic bond with his brother while being sexually frustrated.

So investigating what exactly Sam was up to was the obvious choice. Jess probably wasn’t going to be happy about it, but Dean figured if she was post coital, then she deserved to have her afterglow ruined. She knew that Sam was his.

If she was sleeping, well, he’d just have to buy her a latte or something to apologize.

It turned out that he didn’t have to interrupt Jess at all as she was actually leaning up against the door to her motel room when he made it down the walkway.

The thought that she had stepped out while Sam had his way with another woman crossed Dean’s mind, but he didn’t figure Jess to be the type to be sexiled so that Sam could get it on. At least, she wouldn’t do it willingly, but given Sam’s freak powers, she might have had to go without her consent.

“Hey, Dean.” Jess greeted when he got close.

“Hey,” Dean said in return, his eyes glancing pointedly at the door.

“He’s kind of loud.” Jess said with a roll of her eyes.

“And his partner?” Dean forced himself to ask in as manly and non-judgmental tone as possible.

“Partner?” Jess sounded confused.

“For, you know,” Dean made a vaguely lewd hand gesture.

“He’s sleeping! You have to know how loud he gets when he’s dreaming, and you should know better than to think that he’s going around knocking boots with somebody that isn’t you.” Jess paused and frowned. “Wait, how did you know that he was… enjoying himself?”

“I… uh, hey why don’t you just go back to my room and stay with Bobby tonight? I’m sure that this is awkward for you.”

The look on Jess’s face was one of disbelief. “I was with Sam for a while, you know. I’ve heard worse than that. Actually, I’ve heard sex dreams worse than that. He tends to get horny when he’d holding out.”

Dean knew bait being trolled by him when he saw it. There was no way that he was going to ask about the whole Sam holding out thing. Of course, that could just be because he was experiencing Sam holding out on him or announcing his intent to hold out on him should he make an attempt, and he just didn’t want to know if it was a pattern.

“You trying to tell me that you have no issues with staying in the same hotel room with your ex-boyfriend who is mystically engaged to his older brother and is having dreams so loud that he wakes you up and sends you out of your room in the middle of the night?” He challenged her instead.

“I think it was his fated love story with you that really sealed the deal. After that, things just don’t seem as strange anymore.”

“I’m not bribing you.” Dean said with an even stare and a jerk of his thumb in the direction of his room.

Jess crossed her arms across her chest. “He begged me not to leave him with you.”

“And if I’m going to prevent him from causing mayhem and keep his brain intact, I need to get in there for a little alone time with him, so scram.”

Jess rolled her eyes and held her hand out to Dean. “Sam is going to kick my ass for selling him out when I didn’t even get anything in return.”

Dean slapped his room key into her palm. “He’s going to get orgasms. They’re the gift that keeps on giving and healthy for him too.”

“You’re disgusting.” Jess said as she handed over her own key.

Dean grinned at her. “I know.”

~~~~~~~~

The main room was still dark when Dean entered, but there was a light spilling out from underneath the bathroom door. When the door opened, Sam walked out dressed in a pair of boxer shorts and a tee, rubbing a towel over his hair, obscuring his view of the room.

The picture was odd to Dean for all the familiarity of it. He’d seen Sam come out of the bathroom after a shower more than a thousand times. But they’d both given up getting dressed in the bathroom once Sam started going through puberty. They were just too big for some of the very small bathrooms that they had encountered in shitty motels over the years.

Once Sam had started to grow out of his chubby twelve-year-old phase, he’d eased out of his clothed modesty phase and moved on to just wrapping a towel around his hips and grabbing another for his stupid hair if the motel provided enough to go around.

“Wow. Sexy.” Dean commented with his best leer.

Sam whipped the towel away from his head so fast that Dean was sort of surprised that his brother didn’t get rug burn from it.

“I thought you were Jess.” Sam said as he clutched the towel to his chest like some sort of girl trying to protect her maidenly virtue.

“You might need glasses.” Dean responded easily.

Sam managed to look affronted by that.

“What are you doing in here?” He demanded.

“Your sex dreams woke me up.”

“You’re nowhere near this room!”

“What can I say man? You’re really loud. I mean, you drove Jess out into the night with all the moaning and groaning.” Dean’s mouth twitched a little, but he tried not to show the full extent of his amusement. Lying to Sam in the long run would be a bad thing, but there was no reason that a little ribbing wasn’t still permissible.

“She called you about it?” Sam squeaked.

“Yes, Sam. Instead of waking you up and telling you to quit it, she went outside to call your big brother to come in here and tell you to quit having naughty dreams in the same room with her.”

“You don’t need to be so sarcastic about it. You’re the one who isn’t explaining himself.” Sam pouted.

“Really? I’m the one? Because last I checked you were the one with the secrets.”

Sam’s right hand let go of the towel to rub at his forehead. The terrycloth fabric swung limply to the side as his left fist clenched around it harder.

“Look, Dean, I’m tired. I just want to go back to bed.” Sam gestured feebly at his chosen sleeping place with the towel.

“Sounds like a great idea.” Dean said as he reached over and flipped the coverlet fully open as opposed to just pushed down on one side. 

He stared at the sheets for a moment before reaching over to flick on the bedside lamp. A groan came forth from behind Dean, and he didn’t need to have spent years cataloguing all of Sam’s various expressions of displeasure to identify it as one of mortification.

“Did your balls get some sort of magical property from this whole mystical powers thing, or have you just not whacked off in like, months?” Dean asked, as he stared at what appeared to be a small lake in the middle of the mattress.

“Ha ha, very funny. Will you please leave?”

“No can do. I traded my nice, cozy bed to your ex so I didn’t have to get all jealous about you sharing private time with her.”

“She left?” Sam sounded scared.

“You sound like you’re surprised by that. I’ve got to tell you that you shouldn’t be.”

Sam didn’t say anything, so Dean just flipped the covers back over the stain with a disgusted grunt.

“Okay, well, looks like we’re sharing. What side do you want, Honey?”

“Don’t call me ‘Honey’, and we’re not sharing.”

“Keep using that tone with me, and I’m not going to give you a blowjob in the morning.”

“Dean, I mean it. Dean!” Sam grabbed a hold of Dean’s arm, preventing his brother from transferring the pillows over from the soiled bed to the new one.

“I hear you, Sammy. I’m just not paying any attention to you. I hear that’s what husbands do. We ignore our shrewish wives and pressure them for sex.”

“I…”

“Speechless? Nice, I can work with that.” Dean grinned as he pulled his arm free and began arranging the pillows.

“It’s just that there is so much wrong with that sentence that I don’t know where to begin.”

Dean turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “I think I want to keep the speechless thing.”

Sam looked peeved at that, but Dean ignored his ire and shot his hand out to pull Sam down. He wasted no time chasing Sam’s surprised gasp right back into his mouth with his tongue.

Truthfully, he half expected his intruding tongue to be bitten in retaliation because the Winchester boys had never been taught that it was a bad thing to play dirty. Then again, Sam’s return kiss was definitely dirty and included just as much tongue as Dean’s initiating one.

Sam’s right hand found its way down to cup at Dean’s ass, and the other one finally threw away the towel that he’d been holding onto. Freed from its duty, it slid up to cup Dean’s jaw and adjusted the angle of the kiss.

Dean backed away and shot a smirk at the discarded laundry. “Finally throwing in the towel?”

Sam grunted and stepped forward to claim another kiss, but Dean dodged around him and gave him a gentle shove towards the bed.  He might love Sam to pieces, but there was no way that he was going to give up control and be submissive. It wasn’t his style.

It didn’t look like that message had exactly made it through to Sam’s brain though, because he just reached out to grab at Dean and pull him down onto the bed with him.

They kissed awkwardly for a while, both laying half on and half off the bed, facing each other. It wasn’t the best kiss that Dean had ever had, but he didn’t think that it should be either. Something so huge, so permanent, and so weird shouldn’t be easy at first.

With a gentle hand he pushed away from Sam.

“What’s wrong?” Sam sounded adorably confused, and his eyes were all softy and moony as they tried to focus on Dean’s face.

“It’s getting late, and as valiantly as your soldier is trying down there,” Dean pointed to the bulge in Sam’s boxers, “I don’t think that he’s ready for another tour of duty right now.”

One of Sam’s huge hands reached down to cover up his crotch, and his face flushed in embarrassment.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before. Actually, nothing I haven’t seen on you before.” Dean reminded him.

“I’m not going to let you suck me off in the morning.” Sam blurted out as Dean pulled him off the covers so that they could get into the bed properly.

“Of course you are,” Dean responded with all of his natural authority.

“No, I’m not.” Sam stated firmly.

Dean just crawled between the sheets, laid back and patted the small space next to him on the bed. 

Sam’s mouth twisted into an annoyed pout for a second or two, but he climbed into the bed fast enough that any attempt he might make about not wanting to be in it would be an obvious lie.

Dean grinned triumphantly, and when Sam reached over to turn off the lamp, Dean took full advantage of the movement and spooned up right behind him.

“Hello Little Spoon. I’m the dish of your dreams. Come run away with me.” Dean whispered in Sam’s ear.

For perverting a nursery rhyme and getting his way about the sleeping arrangements, Dean figured he deserved the elbow that Sam gave him before they settled down to sleep.

 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

In the past year, Dean had gotten used to waking up with somebody in the same bed with him. Lisa had been a cuddler, and Dean had given up on any pretense that he wasn’t a protective son of a bitch who liked to hold and cherish and, well, protect.

The whole sleeping together thing had really worked for him in ways that he hadn’t imagined possible. It was like this great way of showing affection and concern without having to have one solitary conversation about his feelings because you couldn’t talk when you were asleep – the exception being Sam.

Not that Sam actually sleep talked. Even if he had, John Winchester wouldn’t have stood for either of his sons developing such a dangerous habit. Dean sometimes wondered if Sam had developed his penchant for making noises in his dreams as a way of defying their father. Not quite talking, not quite spilling any secrets, but annoying enough even though it wasn’t strictly dangerous.

No sir, there was no sleeping if you were imminent danger. Not on John Winchester’s watch. So there had never been the chance that Sam would alert the enemy to their presence by sleep mumbling. Always being awake had been a great way to keep that scenario from happening.

Of course, Sam had managed to have quite the one sided conversation with Dean last night, so there was a chance that his nighttime grunts had evolved into something more lingual.

Jess hadn’t mentioned any specifics on the physical hearing side, but it had been late, and Dean hadn’t exactly encouraged her to hang around and share the details.

A tickling sensation derailed Dean’s train of thought and brought him out of his memories right back into reality - the reality where Sam had somehow gotten Dean on his back during the night and had used his big brother’s chest as a pillow.

The picture they made was warm and snuggly and gooey hearts and roses.

It was also making one of Dean’s arms fall asleep because Sam weight twice what Lisa could ever have nightmares about weighing. Given that Sam was also a foot and a half taller than Lisa, Dean was pretty sure that Sam’s lower body was either doing a pretzel impersonation, or the guy’s feet were hanging off the end of the bed.

Not that Sam hadn’t spent a few years of his life with the whole end of the bed problem. No, Sam had been forced to become the master of that particular trick until John Winchester had finally realized that when Dean asked if they couldn’t start getting rooms with queen size beds instead of doubles, it wasn’t just because Dean was being soft.

Shooting up Sam with muscle relaxants so that they could vacate the premises before they got evicted hadn’t been the proudest moment in Dean’s life, but there had been no way that he was going to shove his little brother out of a window when he wasn’t sure that Sam could roll with the impact.

Their Dad had bitched about how difficult it was to obtain the drugs, and Dean, well, he had gone ape shit on his father. Really, really quietly ape shit because they hadn’t wanted to alert anybody to the fact that they were sneaking out of the rent due on the rat hole of an apartment they’d been in, but Dean figured the sentiment was what had mattered.

Sam had appreciated it though, and it was one of the few times that John Winchester had ever admitted to being wrong about something.

“You’re smiling.” Sam’s voice was soft, groggy and full of a little wonderment.

Dean looked down to see that while Sam’s heavy and shaggy head was still resting on his pecs, Sam’s face was now tilted upwards. His stupid brown hair was all mussed, and his eyes were still hazy from sleeping. It was freaking adorable in Dean’s opinion.

Dean was seriously fucked when it came to his brother though, so he would have to admit that maybe his opinion wasn’t the best.

“Hey,” Dean responded in what he hoped was a noncommittal and neutral tone.

Apparently it wasn’t, or at least it wasn’t to a mostly sleepy and maybe not so sane anymore Sam. One second they were making sleepy eyes at each other, and the next, Sam’s eyes had sped from sleepy past awake to completely dilated and horny.

Not that Dean had a lot of experience with seeing Sam’s bedroom eyes, but the mental porn monologue that started up in his head definitely sounded exactly like Sam’s voice, so he was fairly certain the pupil dilation wasn’t from a head injury or anything like that. Unless, of course, the whole mental sex thing was the result of some sort of telepathy induced by head trauma, but Dean was betting on that having more to do with the whole fated lovers thing.

_“So, just, uh,”_ Sam’s brain grunted into Dean’s cutting off Dean’s speculation of its exact origin.

The sentiment that it expressed was sort of random, but it made Dean feel a little better that Sam’s sex brain wasn’t fluent in Spanish or capable of coherent thought.

Dean’s tongue darted out to wet his lips in preparation to actually say something when, _“Fuckin’ pretty,”_ came echoing into his skull.

Dean frowned. That was just not okay. He was a stud, a sexy beast, an awesomely packaged badass hunter: he was not going to let Sam get by with calling him ‘pretty.’

_“No frown, frown bad. Sexy frown, nuh,”_ Sam commented unhelpfully.

“Sam,” Dean began.

_“Mine,”_ Sam’s mind growled the name out long and low, and Sam’s hips rolled forward a bit pushing his morning wood against his brother.

Dean smiled a little nervously. “Okay, so here’s the thing. I can hear you right now, in my brain. And apparently you’re a Neanderthal, so if you’d just…”

Sam surged upwards from the rumpled blankets like some sort of mermaid, merman, whatever, some sort of aquatic creature jumping out of the ocean. He was a gigantic Sam dolphin that lunged up and took Dean’s still moving mouth into a sloppy kiss.

_“Guhn.”_ That comment was echoed by a low moan that came out of Sam’s throat, but was stifled by virtue of Dean’s tongue being in the way.

Despite their make out session the night before, Dean had sort of figured that they’d talk about something before they actually progressed to more explicit sex acts. But as Sam rolled fully on top of Dean and thrust his crotch downwards, Dean revised his game plan.

He was an adaptable sort of guy, and he liked sex and saving the world.

Sam whimpered a little and broke their kiss when Dean rolled his own hips against the warm bulk covering him.

_“Hard. Warm, good,”_ Sam gibbered.

“Yeah,” Dean commented out loud. It just seemed rude not to at least agree.

Sam grunted out loud and pushed himself off Dean only to shift around on the bed a bit to align their hips and drop back down.

Dean let his eyes roll back in his head because, yeah, that felt awesome.

Not that the concept associating pleasure with hardness wasn’t throwing his brain for a loop, because it was. It wasn’t weird to feel another dick, per se, but the movement of it all was unusual, and the whole lack of soft, giving curves was going to take some getting used to.

On the other hand, Sammy was huge like, everywhere. His sheer bulk was producing some really good friction even without the grinding, thrusting movements.

Tired of being a pacifist, because Dean was sure that word had never applied to him, he slid his hands down to cup at Sam’s ass to encourage the motion.

Sam pushed his mouth harder against Dean’s, and Dean took the opportunity to nip gently as Sam’s lower lip

Sam jerked back a little at the action, and before Dean could sooth away the tiny hurt, Sam was flailing backwards off the bed. He landed with a loud, painful sounding thump. The bed covers pulled down around him, tangled up with his long legs.

“Sam?” Dean asked generically because he wasn’t sure what a good specific question would be.

What’s wrong? Why did you stop? Why did your mental commentary suddenly short out?

All of those would be begging for another awkward conversation.

“You’re really here.” Sam stated bluntly.

“Uh, yeah?”

“You, I… I thought it was a dream.” Sam mumbled as he blushed.

Dean frowned. “You have dreams that vivid very often?”

Sam blushed harder and refused to meet Dean’s eyes.

“Wow. Okay, just…”

“Could you just not say what I think you might want to say?”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know. Something rude and possibly vulgar?” Sam suggested.

Dean opened his mouth and closed it. Then opened it again to say, “Would you consider calling you a cock tease to be vulgar?”

Sam’s blush regained any vibrancy that it had lost.

Dean grinned triumphantly. “Because, you are. I’m here all hard and horny, and you’re acting like some pious virgin that I’m tempting into a fate worse than death.”

Sam rolled his eyes and started to struggle out of the tangle of blankets. “You watch too much porn.”

“No such thing.” Dean rebutted as his eyes took in the sight of Sam’s writhing appreciatively.

“Pretty sure there is. It’s like an addiction. It’s bad for you.” Sam mumbled as he reached down with hands to grab at the covers.

“Sex is good, Sammy.” Dean pointed out.

Sam’s skin flushed a darker red because, yeah, Sam knew Dean, and there wasn’t the slimmest chance that Sam didn’t know that Dean was talking about them and sex.

“Dean,” Sam whined as he finally got free of the not so threatening sheets.

“Sam,” Dean mocked in the exact same tone. It wasn’t that difficult to replicate. Dean had been hearing it every year, with a few, horrible Sam-less exceptions, since he was four years old.

Sam turned to glare at his brother. His broad forehead was already in its wrinkly state, and his normally wide mouth was thin and puckered. He was obviously preparing to get into a fight with his brother, which was why Dean shifted up onto his knees, making the first thing that Sam’s eyes actually fully glared at, Dean’s pretty obvious boner.

Dean suppressed a gleeful smirk of triumph at the surprised look on Sam’s face. He was fairly certain that he shouldn’t be trying to one up his brother so early in their romantic relationship. There should be much wooing and good times had before they started getting playful and aggressive. There should be a good, solid base of love and mutual want before they started in on the head games.

Granted, that was probably a not so attainable goal given that Sam had actually been in Dean’s head mucking around with it. And there was the whole thing where wanting to spend the rest of their lives in gay love with each other. That qualified as a head trip in and of itself.

“ _Cock_ ,” Sam’s internal commentary stuttered back to life inside Dean’s brain.

Obviously the whole head game thing was going to be unavoidable.

Dean thrust his pelvis forward a bit in what he hoped was an enticing manner. Because, yeah, they were going to have to talk about it at some point, but talking about it wasn’t going to get either of them laid. Talking about it was going to lead to fighting and misunderstandings, so they might as well have sex first to put the commitment out there.

“ _Nugh_ ,” Sam’s libido commented, and Sam himself swayed a little in Dean’s direction.

Dean let his hand drift down to trace the outline of his cock. He didn’t grab himself, not directly. He didn’t think Sam was the type of guy to get off on watching. Sam had always been more of a participant. He was pretty hung up on the being equals thing.

“Dean,” Sam moaned out loud while his brain supplied a heady rush of lust.

“Sammy,” Dean purred as low and throaty as possible. He’d been told that it was seductive, and if the feeling of Sam’s large hands curling over his hips was any indication, that waitress in Tampa hadn’t been lying.

For a split second they froze, the minute flexing of Sam’s fingers the only non-life supporting movement that either of them made. Sam stared at Dean’s underwear covered hard-on, and Dean stared at the top of Sam’s head, cataloguing the strange patterns that Sam’s cowlicks made when he had bead head.

Then Sam leaned in just that little bit farther while his hands tugged Dean’s hips forward, and before Dean really processed what was happening, Sam was nuzzling Dean’s cock.

Without Dean’s conscious consent, his hands buried themselves in Sam’s hair, mussing the unruly strands even more than sleep had, but Sam didn’t seem to mind. The warm puffs of air that he was breathing against Dean’s crotch intensified, though Dean couldn’t tell if that was because Sam was breathing harder, or just because Dean’s boxers were getting damp and the wetness was magnifying the sensation.

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam’s mind cooed again, but there was the strangest sensation that it was more of an identification thought than, than…

Sam’s teeth closed around the width of Dean’s penis about halfway between its head and its base. The grip was loose and the material from his shorts kept away any pain that the sharpness of the teeth would have brought from making actual contact with the sensitive skin that it was protecting. It was somewhat intimidating to have his manhood in such a dangerous situation, but Dean refused to freeze.

Sam’s lizard brain had suspiciously quieted down, and Dean knew full well how devious his brother was, freaky mind link or not.

“Tell me you don’t have a biting kink, because I’m not down with that. I’ve got enough scars.” Dean commented in a lazy, relaxed drawl as he combed his fingers through Sam’s hair again.

Sam let go of Dean’s cock and huffed a laugh against it instead. “Cas took most of them away.”

Dean arched an eyebrow at that because, yeah, Sam sounded jealous. And, okay, Dean had done the whole angel thing with Anna, so it wasn’t like he was against the concept, but really. Jealousy? Over Castiel?

Sam was such a girl.

“Only man for me, Baby.” He promised.

Sam groaned unsexily, and Dean jerked as the reverberations from it traveled through his dick.

“Don’t ever call me that again.” Sam chided.

Dean was all for the witty retort, but the feeling of Sam yanking his boxers down sort of short circuited his brain. He pushed his hips out on instinct and was rewarded with the feeling of his cock rubbing against Sam’s cheek. The prickles of barely grown stubble interrupted what would have been a very pleasant rub against some soft skin.

Dean shivered and shifted back a bit, but Sam’s hands slid further back to literally grab as Dean’s ass and hold him still.

It was kind of a turn on and kind of irritating at the same time. Dean was bossy by nature. Always had been, and he didn’t see that changing in the near or distant future. Manhandling was not going to happen to him. He didn’t care how huge his Sammy had gotten over the years.

Sam’s lips quirked as if he knew exactly what Dean was thinking. He probably did.

Still, there was pushing the point about being irritated, and there was the fact that his hard-on was hard, red and proudly showing itself off right in front of Sam’s face. It wasn’t the biggest or hardest erection that Dean had ever had, but it was perfectly…

Dean didn’t even bother holding back his gasp of surprise when Sam’s mouth closed over the head of his cock, sucking it gently into his mouth.

“Oh,” Dean grunted as more blood rushed south like it was trying to escape into the warm heat that lay just beyond Sam’s lips.

Sam’s eyes flicked upwards at the sound, but his mouth slid down Dean’s length a bit more, and Dean couldn’t bring his brain far enough back online to decipher what the look meant.

He was much too busy cataloguing the feel of Sam’s mouth around him. The wetness was nigh on perfect even if the occasional scrape of teeth and the  uneven sucking showed how much of a novice Sam was at the act.

The thought of being the first guy to have Sam’s mouth sent another wave of lust through Dean’s system, and he felt a corresponding pulse in his groin that told him that his cock was now leaking precome.

He was hard and leaking in Sam’s mouth. His Sammy’s mouth was wrapped around him. His Sam’s mouth was bobbing ever so slightly on his cock, leaving the tiniest trail of shiny spit in its wake on the backstroke.

Dean groaned, and Sam’s mind commentary let out some sort of garbled whine that sounded something like, “ _tastessogoodohgodsohard_ ,” but Dean was too far gone to really pay attention to it beyond confirming the fact that Sam was having a good time giving him head.

Oh. Oh God. Sammy was having a good time giving him head. That was, okay, kind of a really big turn on.

Despite Dean’s efforts to be a gentleman for Sam’s first time out, the thought made him thrust into Sam’s heat. Sam made a slight choking noise at the action, but sucked hard when Dean tried to pull out in response.

“Sam,” Dean groaned, and his muscles quivered as he forced himself to not push back into that wonderful pressure.

Sam rolled his eyes and almost choked again when the motion caused his head to move at a bad angle.

Dean started to pull out again, and this time Sam clamped down ever so lightly with his teeth. Pulling his head out past Sam’s pearly whites sounded like the worst idea ever, so Dean stilled his hips.

Sam glared at Dean and tightened his fingers on Dean’s hips. Dean stared defiantly down at him. It was a losing battle though, because not moving just gave Dean time to think about how hot it was to have Sam’s mouth wrapped around his cock like that, and how much he loved Sammy, and how long it had been since he’d really enjoyed a blowjob.

Sam, the fucker, sensed Dean’s capitulation and relaxed his jaw again so that it was only his lips that were sliding up and down Dean’s girth.

Dean gave up and thrust the tiniest bit into Sam’s mouth. If Sam wasn’t giving up on the whole oral sex thing, the least Dean could do was not be a prick about it. Nobody needed sore jaw muscles after all.

The next time that Sam made a slight choking sound, Dean pulled back a bit, but kept his hand on the back of Sam’s head to show that he didn’t have any intention of pulling all the way out.

After that, Sam seemed to learn a good rhythm for bobbing and sucking that corresponded well with Dean’s shallow thrusting. It was good and hot and Sam kept grunting a little every time that Dean groaned which only made Dean groan more because Sam had the damned cutest sex noises.

Sam’s left hand slipped off Dean’s hip and slid down to cup gently at Dean’s balls. They pulled up tight at the fondling, and Dean spared a second to curse their sensitive nature right before his orgasm hit.

Sam choked again, but this time he was the one who pulled back only to have the last of Dean’s spunk hit his chin.

It was embarrassing. Dean couldn’t remember the last time that he had shot off in anybody’s mouth without giving them some warning, and here he was just shooting his load like some teenager.

“Sorry,” he wheezed out even though his body was voting for relaxed afterglow instead of mortifying apologies.

Sam stared blankly at him for a minute before launching off the floor and pinning Dean to the mattress.

It was uncomfortable because one of his legs didn’t quite get straight before Sam’s weight descended on him, but the frantic kiss that Sam gave him made up for the bad positioning. Dean could taste himself on Sam’s tongue and could feel the press of Sam’s cock as they moved together.

Dean pushed up a bit to get his leg at a more comfortable angle. The movement caused their kiss to break, and Dean took advantage of the space between them to pull Sam’s shirt off before attacking his mouth again.

Sam’s tongue was agile against Dean’s in a way that it hadn’t been when it was assisting on his blowjob. It was exciting to think about how much better their sex life was going to get when they’d had a little practice, because it was obvious that Sam was going to be good at it, and Dean knew that he was not going to let his little brother best him in anything.

Dean ran his hands down Sam’s back as they kissed and smiled a little when Sam’s hand slid between their bodies heading towards his underwear. They were obviously on the same train of thought. Getting naked together was a fantastic idea.

Skin was good.

Dean shifted and contorted a bit to allow Sam room to get his boxers off, and was rewarded with a long, unhappy sounding moan from above. Then, Sam collapsed on Dean, his arm an uncomfortable hardness between them.

“Sam?” Dean asked concerned for a moment that something horrible had happened.

“Fuck.” Sam responded back.

“Dude?”

“Don’t say anything. Promise me you won’t say anything.” Sam mumbled into Dean’s shoulder.

Dean frowned and pushed Sam onto his back so he could get a good look at him.

Sam’s eyes were slammed shut, and his skin was back to the mortified flush it had been sporting earlier.

Slowly, Sam pulled his hand up from where it had been, the snap of elastic surprisingly loud in the cheap motel room, and waved it slowly in a weird ‘hello’ gesture.

For a split second, Dean was tempted to mock Sam mercilessly, but common sense pointed out that it would probably delay further sexual gratification if he criticized Sam’s sexual performance. There was also the fact that now that Dean wasn’t thinking with his downstairs brain, he remembered that the blowjob was supposed to have been done in reverse.

Then again, the reason he’d been thinking blowjob was because of the whole seed swallowing factor, and Sam’s hand was just as easily licked as his cock was.

Dean grabbed Sam’s wrist and tugged his hand to his lips. Sam’s eyes opened slightly at the action, but flew wide open at the first lick that Dean gave.

“Dean, no.” Sam sounded horrified which was kind of laughable given that they’d just had sex, and that should have been much more horrifying than binding themselves together, but then again Sam had always been the one to try to put distance in their relationship.

Ignoring Sam’s protest, Dean swiped his tongue along a different path. His eyes locked on Sam’s as he made his way, daring him to pull his hand away. Sam lowered his gaze to watch Dean’s mouth, and his chest started heaving in uneven gasps.

With a daring smile, Dean sucked one finger into his mouth, nipping slightly at the pad when he pulled off.

The look on Sam’s face turned dazed, and in the back of Dean’s head he could hear the faint buzzing of Sam’s lust start up again.

He finished cleaning Sam’s hand and let it go with a final kiss to his palm.

The instant that Dean let Sam’s hand go, Sam rolled off the bed and headed into the bathroom. Dean tried to follow, but the problem with sex was that he that his brain didn’t always start functioning on all cylinders after it.

So, when Dean tried to stand to chase after his brother, his underwear that was still bunched around his thighs from where Sam had pulled it down earlier, hobbled him so that he tipped over. It wasn’t as painful or as embarrassing as it could have been as he face planted into the bed next to the one that they’d just had sex on, but it did slow down his progress.

By the time he had righted himself and kicked off the offending boxers, Sam had the shower going. And if Dean still knew his brother, Sam wasn’t going to appreciate having his shower interrupted.

Grumbling to himself and shooting his boxers a dirty look, Dean stumbled over to Sam’s duffle to pull out a pair of sweats and a shirt. If he had to wait for Sam to finish scrubbing away whatever it was that he felt needed to be cleaned off, he was damn well going to do something useful with that waiting period.

Coffee and a greasy to go breakfast sounded like a great way to pass the time, but showing up in his boots and sleeping wear wasn’t a good idea. Granted, wearing Sam’s clothes and looking like a hobo wasn’t going to be much better, but there was no chance that he was going back to his original room to show his post coital face to Bobby and Jess until he absolutely had to.

His body had never been subtle about announcing that it had just gotten laid. From his face to his hips to his stupid knees, it declared that it had gotten off. He wasn’t going to take that particular walk of shame until he could drag Sam with him to share the experience.

Grabbing money out the ‘secret’ stash that Sam had been keeping in his duffle since he was thirteen, Dean marched out the door to get sustenance.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“You ain’t Dean,” were the first words that greeted Jess when she woke up.

“Was it the boobs that gave me away?” She snarled back. God, she was so not a morning person, especially when she got sexiled.

She had sort of thought that she would never have to face that particular problem ever again once she had moved out of the college dorms, but she’d obviously been proven wrong.

Bobby grunted and crawled out of the bed next to her. And yes, she’d been sharing a room with him earlier, but he obviously wore more to bed when a lady was around. She shut her eyes, but not before she had the chance to see that Bobby Singer was wearing bright, Barbie pink cotton briefs and nothing else.

“I hadn’t done laundry lately, okay?” Bobby snapped.

“Sorry,” she said meekly. It wasn’t Bobby’s fault that she’d switched places with Dean the night before, and she was of the opinion that Dean was a little bit of a jerk anyway. He had probably done something to deserve seeing Bobby in those shorts.

“Aint’ your fault. Should’ve gotten up and changed when you fell asleep last night. Was just too tired. Stress, you know?”

Jess nodded and instantly felt a touch foolish because she had no way of knowing if Bobby was looking at her to see the motion or not.

“I’m decent.” Bobby huffed out, but it was a tolerant sort of exasperation that filled his tone, so she felt safe opening her eyes and smiling meekly at him.

“I’m hoping this means that Sam and Dean were entering into acts of coitus last night.”Castiel announced from behind a now mostly clothed Bobby.

Jess let out an undignified shriek and was only slightly mollified by the look of surprised that flitted across Bobby’s face. Granted, he hadn’t screamed like a girl, but he’d been a hunter a long time and was a guy. Jess was still getting used to the strange men appearing randomly thing.

“I didn’t ask.” Bobby informed Castiel dryly.

“It is imperative that Dean succeed as soon as possible. It is for the good of us all.” Castiel said.

Jess figured that it was his way of putting Bobby in his place, but really it was hard to tell with the lack of emotion that the angel was showing on his face.

“Yeah? So what do you want me to do, roofie them?” Bobby snapped back sarcastically.

“Perhaps you could speak to Sam about the importance of this interaction. Dean is not always the best in having conversations of great importance with his brother. They usually end in a calamity or five before they resolve anything.”

“You want me to go tell Sam to let his brother blow him.” Bobby drawled out slowly.

Castiel shifted his weight and almost shrugged. “Perhaps that is not the best plan either.”

“Hey,” Jess interrupted, “Here’s a thought. Maybe we should just let them be. I mean, I realize that I have absolutely no experience with Sam’s sexual habits, but if I had, say, been his girlfriend or something, I would maybe tell you that he’s not exactly the quick screw kind of guy.”

“Your sarcasm is irritating, and we do not have time for Sam to ‘get in the mood.’ A group of demons is headed this way to abduct Sam’s mate before they consummate their union. The only reason that they are not here yet is because of the hex bags that are protecting all of you.” Castiel informed her.

“Oh, that’s just great,” Bobby said as he stalked over to his bag and started rummaging around in it. “Wait, how do you know that there are demons coming? Shouldn’t that be Crowley’s gig?”

Castiel shifted again, this time more uncomfortably in Jess’s opinion. “There is a possibility that he is attempting to contact Sam on the subject. I, uh, found out because of the amulet that I took from Lisa Braeden.”

Bobby just stared at Castiel when the angel stopped speaking.

Jess gave the guy the benefit of the doubt and arched and inquiring eyebrow at him. After all, he wasn’t exactly human. There was the chance that he didn’t realize that had to elaborate on his comment.

Castiel coughed once. “It has a soul…ghost attached to it. Steve is apparently very loyal to Sam.”

“Steve?” Jess asked.

“The ghost.” Cas clarified.

“Yeah, I got that. I was just looking for a little more information.”

“Sam rescued him from Hell. Steve was there because he had sold his soul to a crossroads demon in exchange for saving the lives of twenty orphans in a… You don’t need to hear the story. Suffice it to say that his good intentions make several of my colleagues look like, how would Dean put it? Ah, yes, D-Bags.”

“Your colleagues don’t need Steve the stupid ghost to make ‘em look like that.” Bobby told him.

“That also doesn’t explain why a ghost attached to a necklace would know more about the comings and goings of demons than Crowley, or why he isn’t here.” Jess pointed out.

“I got held up in traffic,” came Crowley’s sarcastic response.

“Great,” Bobby muttered.

“I missed you too, Sweetheart.” Crowley said with a particularly lascivious smirk.

“Enough. We must warn Dean and Sam.” Castiel ordered.

Jess wrinkled her nose at the proclamation. She wasn’t sure what the Winchester brothers had gotten up to the night before, but she didn’t want to walk in on them if they were still doing it. She might be okay with encouraging them into a relationship, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to see her ex getting it on with his brother.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bobby fidget just a little bit, and she would lay money on him having the same sort of thoughts. He said, “Well, go get them then,” and Jess was struck with the thought that Bobby was a genius for putting it back on Cas.

“I do not know their exact location. If I did, I would not have stopped here first.” Castiel responded with enough exasperation that it made it through in his normally disaffected tone.

“Lord Moose is taking an insanely thorough shower, and his princess consort is making his walk of shame back from the local coffee shop. It wouldn’t hurt you lot to do a bit of reconnaissance, you know?” Crowley said with a haughty look towards Castiel.

“Which just brings up my question of why you’re in here talking to us instead of, what did you call Sam? Lord Moose?” Jess retorted with a pointed glare at Crowley.

The demon shrugged off her look like it was nothing, and Jess wasn’t truly surprised. He was evil; he probably had had a lot more than angry glances tossed at him.

“He’s a wonderful specimen of flesh, but I have no desire to interrupt him while he’s in the buff. His beloved doesn’t like me much and might just send me back to somewhere mightily unpleasant. Worse, he might cut my dick off. Dean’s barbaric enough to ask for that,” Crowley said with too amused of a smile for Jess’s comfort. Guys just didn’t talk about their dicks being cut off with anything resembling humor.

“Perhaps we should speak to Dean then.” Castiel’s gruff voice eased the room out of what promised to be another awkward moment where they all tried to pawn off talking to Sam on the person next to them.

“Oh, you’re going to go talk to the Missus? Before he’s had his morning coffee? Have fun with that.” Crowley’s sarcasm was predictable.

“I am.” Castiel stated, but instead of just disappearing from the room, he strode over to the door, opened it, and yelled “Dean!”

It took a while and some impatient gestures from Castiel, but Dean eventually appeared at the open doorway. He was disheveled and had a large coffee in each hand. Under one armpit, he had a sack with grease stains on it. The clothes he was wearing were obviously too large for him. One leg of the rolled up sweatpants he had unrolled a bit and was flopping around his boot.

Jess wasn’t a betting girl by nature, but she was pretty certain that if she was closer, he’d smell like Sam and sex.

It was embarrassing. At least it was for the humans in the room. Castiel just looked pleased, and Crowley was leering. The leering was probably just for show though.

Dean looked around at the assembled party and grunted out an irritable, “What?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So there are demons have figured out where we are and are coming to get me and hold me ransom.” Dean repeated slowly after both Cas and Crowley were done speaking.

“Yes.” Cas nodded his head with his proclamation as if it needed emphasis.

Dean took a sip of his coffee and stared at the wall. He wasn’t about to look in any of their faces for his next sentence. “Well, they’re too late. I’m all, we’re all…”

“Please stop. We get the picture.” Bobby interrupted Dean’s stilted confession, and at that moment, Dean was certain that he had never loved Bobby more.

“Yeah, well, birds and butterflies and all that.” Dean mumbled because he might love Bobby the most right now, but he hated not having the last word.

“Seriously? Birds and Butterflies? That’s not very useful.” Crowley said in what sounded like fascination.

Dean paused in mid sip. At this rate, he was never going to get through his own coffee, let alone begin purloining from Sam’s cup. “It was a metaphor, asshat. Do I look like I’m shooting rainbows out of my ass here?”

“You keep saying ‘ass’ a lot. I think you’ve got a fixation. What’s the matter? Yours too tight to let your brother’s trouser snake in?” Crowley’s smirk was really starting to get on Dean’s nerves.

“Crowley!” Sam’s snarl sounded vicious and mean as he stormed through the motel room door.

“Oh good, the gang’s all here.” Crowley deadpanned.

“Enough! You will not speak to my b…rother that way.” Sam spat out although his proclamation lost some of its oomph when he broke over the word brother.

Dean would be insulted, but it was Sam, and they hadn’t had time to have the ‘what do we call each other’ discussion.

“Hey, Sammy. I brought you coffee.” Dean proclaimed as he waved one of the cups at Sam by way of greeting. “I also got you a breakfast sandwich, but I kind of ate it on the way back.”

“What’s in the bag then?” Jess’s voice was most unwelcome as she asked the question. Sam had focused in on Dean’s face as soon as he had started speaking, and until the ex started talking, it had felt like Dean and Sam were the only two people in the room.

“My breakfast sandwich,” Dean told her.

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Jess said.

“It does to Dean.” Sam murmured, and Dean had to force himself to stand still because he hadn’t noticed Sam’s approach.

Sam smiled bashfully at Dean and wrapped one hand around the offered coffee. Once it was free from Dean’s grasp, Sam lifted it to his lips and took a tentative sip.

It wasn’t anything different from what Dean had seen a thousand times before. From when Sam was old enough for a sippy cup to a milkshake from a drive through to a bottle of beer to a, well, fancy coffee in a to-go cup: Sam had been pursing and wrapping his lips to drink out of all sorts of containers for the same way for years. 

There was no reason why the sight of it should make Dean’s blood supply rush south, but it did.

One minute, Dean was annoyed. The next minute, he was still annoyed, but horny and wanting to drag Sam off somewhere because one blow job just wasn’t going to cut it. There needed to be sex and possibly more snuggling afterwards.

Sam choked and snorted and coffee came out of his pointy nose. “JESUS DEAN!” He exclaimed as he turned, wide eyes on his brother.

“What? Did that bitch put something in there? She looked at me funny when I said it was for my boyfriend. I bet she was a homophobe.” Dean said as he snatched the cup away, popped the lid off, and sniffed at the contents suspiciously.

“Not that,” Sam said in a strained voice.

“That’s his doing?” Bobby asked in the same strangled way.

Dean looked up from his coffee to look at Bobby’s pinched and uncomfortable expression. A quickly glance around the room showed Crowley smirking, Jess and Sam looking incredibly embarrassed, a flowering plant in the corner that Dean hadn’t noticed before, and Cas looking Cas-like.

“What?”

Crowley opened his mouth, but clamped it shut when his demon essence started to wisp out of it.

Dean turned an enquiring gaze toward his brother.

“He was about to say something to you!” Sam protested.

“You mean like tell me what’s going on in a really dick-ish way? I’m a big boy, Sammy. I think I can handle it.”

“I bet you are.” Jess grumbled.

Dean turned to glare at her, but she simply blushed and looked away.

“What!” Dean snapped.

“You are projecting yourself very strongly.” Cas intoned.

“I’m projecting myself. Well, you know what? When I don’t get a freaking answer to a freaking question, I get a little pissed.” Dean snarled.

“No, Dean. He means,” Sam stopped and shifted uncomfortable, “he means that you’re, you know…”

“Obviously, I don’t.”

Sam hunched his shoulders and grabbed Dean’s hand only to pull it down and place it over his crotch. His dick was an obvious hard and hot line through the denim.

“Oh Lord,” Bobby groaned in a mortified way, and Jess whimpered.

Cas didn’t say anything, but Dean bet that Crowley would’ve said something perverted if it weren’t for the fact that he was afraid of Sam.

Dean jerked his hand away. “What is wrong with you? First you don’t even want to touch me, and now you’re up for exhibition games in front of Bobby?”

“No. Dean, you… Look, see that plant over there?” Sam gestured at the plant over in the corner.

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t flowering when we came in. I wasn’t, you know, until just now. None of us were.”

“Well, I hope not. This isn’t exactly the greatest setting for an orgy. I mean… All of you?” Dean squeaked as his brain finally caught up.

“You are influencing their bodies with your lust for your brother.” Cas confirmed.

Dean couldn’t help but glance in Bobby’s direction before hastily jerking his eyes back. He didn’t want to know; he didn’t want to know; he didn’t want to know.

“How is that even possible?” He asked Castiel.

“I told you that the whole seed thing was a bad idea, but you didn’t listen. God, Dean. You always have to be right, don’t you? Now look at us!” Sam snapped before Cas could reply.

“What, this is my fault now?”

“Of course it’s your fault! Look around you! You’re making plants bloom. That isn’t normal!”

“News flash, Sam, our lives aren’t normal! Why do you always have to be caught up on that? Huh?”

“Dean, you’re giving people spontaneous erections. Does this not strike you as a bad thing?”

Dean scowled at his brother. “I’m not giving Jess one.”

Sam groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “That is so not the point and you know it. She’s sitting over there as w…”

A pillow hit to the back of Sam’s head cut him off. “Finish that sentence, and you’ll regret it, Winchester.” Jess hissed.

She shoved her way between Dean and Sam and glared at them both before opening her mouth again. “I’ve been pretty damn patient and easy going about this. I’ve supported the love of my life’s clandestine, gay, incestuous, psychotic love.  I’ve almost gotten myself killed, again, in fighting off some demons. And? I walked your freaking dog. So I think that the two of you need to get over the whole spontaneous powers thing, because logic dictates they aren’t going away. Spilled. Milk. You want to bicker about it? Pick a time when we aren’t about to get attacked by creepy, evil things.”

Jess stomped away into the bathroom and shut the door with a quiet, demure click. Bobby kind of looked like he wished he’d thought of going in there first.

“Touchy.” Dean muttered.

Sam snorted and whacked him on the arm.

“What? Dude, I’m glad that you didn’t marry her.” Dean defended himself.

“Well, that would be unfortunate, yes. Adultery is a grave sin.” Castiel agreed.

“Worse than sleeping with your brother?” Bobby asked, and yeah, Dean might’ve been hurt by the implication, but he figured that Bobby was handling the situation like a trooper, so he let it slide.

“I… that is unimportant at the moment. As Dean and Sam are what they are, I believe that we need to focus on the important fact of our impending doom.” Cas replied.

“How many ‘creepy, evil things’ are we talking here?” Sam asked in an almost clinical tone.

“Enough,” Crowley answered.

Sam turned and raised one eyebrow at him. “Would you like to answer that question a little more respectfully?”

Crolwey looked unimpressed. “Watch it, or the little Missus is going to yank on your chain. He doesn’t like it when you play with people’s minds, or so I’ve heard.”

“You aren’t people.” Dean growled threateningly. He might not want to encourage Sam in using his powers, but he wouldn’t exactly cry if Sam sent Crowley on a trip down under. Besides, it wasn’t as if Dean was one to talk about weird powers. At least Sam seemed to have some sort of control.

“Whatever Mother Earth, you need me.” Crowley said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “Sammy isn’t going to compromise your safety by getting rid of me right before an attack. I’m rather useful, which is more than I can say for you right now.”

“Meaning what exactly?” Dean snarled as he pushed his way past Sam to get into Crowley’s personal space.

“Meaning that you’re all love and hearts? What is it that you think you’re going to do out there? Make with the power of love? “

Dean didn’t have his gun on him, but he’d left one under his pillow the night before. When he reached underneath, he found that Jess hadn’t moved it and wasted no time bringing it to bear on Crowley.

“I’m thinking that I’m just going to shoot them.” He answered.

Crowley held up in hands in mock surrender, but didn’t say anything else.

“Well, now that we’re all done with the confusing speeches and the posturing, maybe we should put together a plan, or are we going off half cocked like normal?” It was hard to tell if Bobby’s question was just his normal gruffness, or if he was truly pissed.

Dean lowered the gun. He didn’t intend on finding out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jess, for the record, was completely against the idea until Dean joined her side. Then, then she was completely for the idea simply to spite Dean. It was kind of her right. Even though he had saved her from the demons trying to feed her demon blood in order to get their hooks into who they thought was the new Queen of the Underworld, he was technically the other woman.

It made her just a little bit of a hypocrite to think that way. She’d invested some serious time in getting him together with Sam. She knew that.

But she also knew that at one point in time, she’d had Sam Winchester’s heart in the palm of her hand. She’d given him hers in return. They’d been a perfect couple, and she had never realized that their perfection was so flawed.

Because, really? Dean could have come for Sam at any time, and Sam would have left. It was just that plain obvious to her now.

Then again, it had been obvious the night that Dean had come for Samtoo, she just hadn’t understood it.

She hadn’t understood it, but she hadn’t fought it either. Both she and Sam knew that she could fight like a hellcat when she put her mind to it, and she had let Sam walk out the door with nothing but a token protest about his estranged family.

At the time, Jess had told herself that she was just being a supportive girlfriend. The truth was that she knew a losing fight when she saw one.

She had lost Sam to Dean before she had ever laid eyes on him.

On the upside, she wasn’t the Queen of the Underworld. That had all sorts of positive aspects to it, surprisingly including not having the ability to create spontaneous orgies.

“Dean, seriously,” Sam hissed from Jess’s right side.

“It’s not my fault!” Dean protested from where he was hidden in the shadow of Bobby’s rusty truck.

“If they get arrested for public indecency, you’re paying their bail.” Sam shot back as he waved a hand at the couple across the street who were currently attempting to have public sex against a lamppost.

They had been having some sort of argument when they started walking down the block, but they seemed to have patched up their differences in a rather spectacular way.

“What were you even thinking about?” Sam asked, and Jess sort of wished that he hadn’t asked the question, because Dean was going to answer, and that was just going to cause something to express its sexual nature in three seconds flat.

“You and Jess, and you and Jess and you know.” Dean admitted.

Jess fought the instinct to turn her head and stare daggers at him. She was supposed to be pretending that she and Sam and Crowley were making a stand of power in the middle of a cheap Motel parking lot. She wasn’t supposed to give away the exact location of their back-up. Not that talking to Dean wouldn’t make it obvious that he was nearby.

“Thought that made you jealous. It did last night.” Jess pointed out in what was an admittedly mean spirit.

“It did. Now it doesn’t.” Dean said in an offhanded way that made her want to hit him.

“Jess…” Sam tried to interfere.

“You’re a real pervert, you know that?” Jess said to Sam because she couldn’t look at Dean, and she wanted to glare at somebody, and in the grand scheme of things, it was ultimately Sam’s fault she was there.

“Trouble in paradise already?” The female member of the amorous couple from across the way asked. Her shirt was open and her bra was gone exposing her sagging chest to the world. Her lips were swollen from kisses, and her eyes were black as night.

The motel sign buzzed and flickered with her approach, but it had been doing that since they’d first pulled into the parking lot all those days ago. It wasn’t a reliable indicator for demonic activity, but Jess figured the black eyes took the guess work out of the equation.

“If you’ve come for my beloved, you are too late.” Sam ignored the poor woman’s possessed features and projected his voice loudly.

“Too late? It’s never too late. Why do you want to be with him, my dear? Now that you’ve tasted his powers, you have no need to bind yourself to him.” The demon purred at Jess.

“The angels that are helping you might disagree.” Jess forced her voice to be as steady as it could be, but it still wavered with the fear she was trying to suppress.

“The angels? What need has a legion with angels?”

“I’m guessing they have quite the need.” Sam said, his face hard.

“As you have of your pathetic friends and your cross-roads lapdog? You are no Lord of the Underworld. You are a pathetic hunter who was a fool to not embrace his destiny.”

“I consider myself more of a guard dog, really. I like to bite. It’s a thing.” Crowley’s smug voice was a welcome distraction from the way that the demon kept staring at Jess with its cold eyes.

The demon though was not sidetracked by Crowley’s interruption. “Come with me, pretty Queen, and you will be greatly rewarded once the battle is over. Unlock the cage with the power your husband has bestowed upon you, and we will have the battle that should have been. Heaven or Hell, the victor will not matter. Both sides would reward you for such an act.”

“I don’t think so.” Jess answered clearly.

The demon’s eyes narrowed in anger at the retort. “If you will not come by choice, then we will take you by force.”

The motel sign buzzed loudly then exploded as people began to pour into the parking lot. Some came from inside the motel, most from the surrounding area, all had ink colored eyes.

Beside her, Sam laughed. “You forget who I am.”

The demon smiled at him. “I do not. You will not kill all these humans, and your powers will not allow you to do otherwise.”

“I would, but I don’t need to. Now tell me the names of the angels that are helping you.” Sam rebutted calmly.

“Why? So that your little angel friend over there can jet off to create some sort of offensive against us? Do I look stupid enough to gloat and tell you the master plan?”

Jess wanted very badly to say yes, but she didn’t. She wasn’t actually the one with powers, even freaky sex powered ones. She wasn’t going provoke some random demon who thought she was Dean.

“Let’s just get this over with, shall we? I’ve got a pedicure scheduled for two.” Crowley said just as he shot a round of rock salt into the demon.

Sam shouted, and then Dean did, and Gigantor growled while Bobby dragged Jess behind the truck that Dean had been hiding against.

And for a giant swarm of demons fighting against an angel, a hunter, a fellow demon and the Winchester brothers, the whole fight went down pretty quickly with minimal damage to the surrounding area.

Sam got a nose bleed from all the exorcisms, and Dean freaked out when he did. Crowley yelled at Dean. Dean hit Crowley. Crowley hit Dean back, and Castiel had to hold Sam back from sending Crowley to follow his fellow demons.

Then Dean kissed Sam out of some post fight adrenaline high, and sickly looking red tulips started blooming along the motel’s boarders.

“Well, that went well.” Bobby noted as he stared fixedly at Jess’s face. Jess assumed it was because he was trying to avoid looking at Sam and Dean exchanging spit.

“It went just swimmingly. The ones that escaped now know that they’ve been barking up the wrong tree, we still don’t know who the angels are that are helping them, and well… actually, I rather like them making out like that.” Crowley said with a leer.

Jess looked over at where Sam and Dean were still kissing. Crowley had a point. It was kind of hot.

“I need to go. Tell them that I said goodbye. Also, please let them know that I am returning Steve to his guardianship of the Braedens. And also sampling Lisa’s apple cobbler.” Castiel said before he disappeared into thin air.

“Leave us to do the dirty work.” Jess grumbled.

“Oh, don’t strain yourself, I’ll be happy to interrupt them.” Crowley said as he popped up to go tap obnoxiously on Dean’s shoulder.

Gigantor came over to have his ears scratched, and Jess smiled softly as Dean got into another squabble with his brother’s minion.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam gave Jess his car. She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or insulted really. Dean was voting for insulted if the comments he kept making about it were anything to go by, but Jess felt obligated to factor in the fact that Dean might be incapable of loving any car that wasn’t his Impala.

It was an odd shift in the dynamics that she had been living with for so long. Since she had been brought back to life, she had been living with Dean Winchester and Bobby Singer. She’d been running to keep that life and then turning right around and running towards the very thing that could take it away.

Stopping that cycle was a relief in a way that was absolutely terrifying. She had only lived a normal life and a completely terrifying one. Changing to something between the two was a challenge that was oddly worrisome even though it shouldn’t have been given that she was actually going to be safer than she had been.

After all, the hoards of Hell were no longer after her given the fact that they now knew that Persephone was in possession of a, in Dean’s opinion, very large cock.

That statement had been something that Jess had never really wanted to know but could grudgingly admit was statistically likely given what she knew of Sam’s anatomy. Any doubts she’d had on the issue were pretty much erased by the blush and shy look that Sam had shot Dean. No exasperation at an exaggeration in that look. It had been pure embarrassment and maybe a little bit of pride. It was the same look that Sam had always gotten when his college buddies had complimented him on having such a hot girlfriend.

Jess hadn’t wanted to spend much time contemplating it, so she had put her mind back on the dilemma of her future.

The decision to actually leave hadn’t been one that had been forced on Jess by unkindness. Sam had argued to the contrary encouraging her to stay with Bobby for at least a little while. She was hardly a veteran hunter, and people - particularly women, Dean had pointed out - who knew the Winchesters had a bad habit of turning up dead.

Still, staying under direct Winchester supervision had been an absolute impossibility. Dean needed to learn to control his newfound abilities before scientists started tracking the sudden and localized baby booms that were happening in random areas. Or horticulturists started to recognize some sort of pattern to the odd blooming patterns of indigenous species.

Jess also didn’t want to find herself having sex with some guy she just met because Dean got struck with the urge to play kissy face with his brother.

Staying with Bobby was certainly a safer option, but Jess had no desire to spend her time with a man who was so obviously a bachelor and set in his ways. He’d do anything for Sam and Dean, but she wasn’t a part of them anymore. She had lost her connection of being Sam’s girl when it became so obvious that the only pants that Sam wanted in anymore were way too big to ever have a hope of fitting on her.

That and scrap yards had never been her thing.

They had not exactly liked her decision, but they had supported it by loading down the trunk of her new, smelly car with weapons and charms and enough salt to melt the ice off a four lane highway.

Sam gave her a necklace with a sheepish smile. She resolved not to ask about the old, junky looking thing, but Dean whispered in her ear that she didn’t have to worry. It was being haunted by the spirit of a benevolent nun who had made a deal, so she didn’t need to worry about the ghost perving on her at night.

It was sweet that she’d have some sort of mystical protection the same way that Sam had done for Lisa, but there was the whole part where she wasn’t sure if she was ever going to be able to have sex again if she kept the necklace with her for maximum coverage.

Given Dean’s smirk, he was probably thinking the same thing. Smug fucker. Jess privately hoped that Sam didn’t use enough lube just so that Dean would feel the downside of sleeping with him, but with her luck he’d probably be one of those kinky bastards who got off on the pain.

Bobby gave her a fake ID and access to a bank account that she was never, ever to ask details about. Jess just smiled and said her thanks.

Her new college enrollment came courtesy of Sam’s computer hacking skills. Part of her felt ashamed that she had never realized that Sam was actually capable of hacking his way through anything. Computer security or a piece of meat, the Sam she thought she had known had never exhibited any signs of the dangerous one she now knew existed.

It wasn’t as if she was running back to a normal life. If she was honest with herself, she that option was an impossibility. Her original death kept her from reclaiming her old life, but she was an idiot if she thought that the supernatural was going to leave her alone.

Still, she had been a literature major before. She had read plenty of books on spirits and the like. Changing over to religious studies and mythology wasn’t that big of a step. She was just going to end up debating different aspects of much different books.

Jess wasn’t cut out to be a hunter, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t help out those who were meant to ride around blowing the ever loving crap out of the creepy crawlies.

Bobby had smiled when she had announced her decision. She guessed that he was envisioning having spare time to blowtorch apart old clunkers for spare parts or something like that.

Dean had surprised her with a hug as they finished loading her vehicle by putting the one bag of clothing she owned into the passenger’s side of the car. Sam had looked like he was going to follow suit, but said his farewells with a heartfelt handshake where he enveloped her hand between his two massive ones.

That more than anything was what made Jess’s heart pang with regret. Sam didn’t hug her for Dean’s sake. Sam didn’t cheat even when it wasn’t cheating. He might be a horrible, lying bastard whose opinion of his own good sense was seriously out of proportion to its actual quality, but he wasn’t unfaithful.

It wasn’t hard to leave him though. They’d been over for years, and even if Jess hadn’t died, she stood firm in her belief that Sam would have eventually left her for Dean anyway. Whether he got sex out of it or not wouldn’t have really mattered.

Saying goodbye to Gigantor, because she refused to call him Cerebrus which delighted Dean and annoyed Sam, was actually the hardest thing to do. He was a good dog, and even though he was hopelessly devoted to his two masters, Jess had done her fair share of bonding with him.

He whined as she was driving away, and only Sam’s firm grip on his leash kept him from chasing after her car.

It gave her a momentary pang, seeing Sam and his dog in her rearview mirror, but then it was gone because she had a new future, and she was going to raise a little Hell this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam dragged Dean out to a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere to a cabin in Northern Minnesota. It was fucking cold. There were moose that traveled by sometimes. Dean named them all Sam.

Sam didn’t find that funny which only made Dean start to tack moose pictures up on the refrigerator with crude drawings of guns and knives, floppy brown hair and plaid shirts inked over them.

Dean thought it was hilarious. He wasn’t sure what Sam thought except for the fact that he was fairly certain that it wasn’t anything sex related. He was honestly sort of relieved about that, but he would have been more relieved if he’d actually been hearing sexy thoughts at other, more opportune times.

Like, say, night time when there were sexy cuddles to be had under the nice, warm flannel sheets and down comforter that Bobby had sent them.

But once Sam realized that Dean could actually hear each and every one of his sex thoughts, his mental chatter had dropped to almost zero. Dean would worry that Sam had developed some sort of erectile issue if not for the fact that he was still getting snippets of Sam’s more erotic dreams and his fantasies when he jerked off in the shower.

The fact that Dean featured prominently in both did little to mollify him or his dick. In his humble opinion, his presence and the random flowers bursting to life around him were a pretty damn big indicator that he wanted to take his pretty damn big dick and do some hot, nasty, sweaty things with it.

Then again, he was in a relationship with Sam, and Sam had been making his brother’s life difficult since he could talk. It was entirely possible that Dean was missing something insignificant that Sam thought was huge.

Whatever the problem was, there was the distinct likelihood that he was going to have to seduce Sam again. Backrubs were a classic standby, and it wasn’t as if Sam could claim that he wasn’t tense or his back wasn’t knotted up. Or he could just start wandering around in the freaking cold cabin wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. He could totally blame the pebbled nipples on the temperature.

“I can hear you plotting you know.” Sam grunted from the kitchen.

“No you can’t.” Dean shot back. He could maybe go with the very obvious too. Like rubbing his naked body against Sam when…

“No, Dean. I’m telling you that I can actually hear you right now. Like your thoughts, you know?”

Instantly, Dean shifted his thoughts to all of the places that he had imagined Sam giving him a blowjob in the cabin.

He heard Sam’s put upon sigh and the noise that the kitchen stool made as it was pushed back from the counter. Sam appeared in the doorway seconds later. He didn’t move past the arch, but leaned in the frame staring at Dean.

“Not your sex thoughts, so whatever you’ve conjured up in there right now? It isn’t helping your cause.”

Dean glared at him. “You and your cockblocking ways aren’t helping my cause. Call me an optimist, but I kind of thought that your pattern of depriving me of sex would stop once I was actually providing you with yours.”

“Once Dean, we had sex once. Also? Lisa was too nice to you. Withholding sex happens all the time in relationships. If it didn’t, counselors wouldn’t make money by telling their patients not to do it.”

“Okay, first off? Lisa is totally your fault. You told me to go to her.” Dean started by holding up his index finger.

“You’re the one that listened to me!” Sam protested.

Dean ignored him and held up a second finger, “Secondly? Quoting a counselor about withholding sex only proves that you know what you’re doing is wrong.”

“Dude, sleeping with your brother? Also wrong. Way, way more wrong than withholding sex.”

“Okay, well, starting the apocalypse is way worse than sleeping with your brother, and might I add, you are a lucky son of a bitch. Not everybody ends up sharing their ever after with somebody so hot.”

“It’s nice to see that your ego has recovered from the fact that you have the girliest super power ever.”

Dean scowled. “I do not! Sex is a natural act for a manly creature to engage in.”

“Dean, you have the power of love.”

“Sex!”

“Love and springtime and roses. Face it, you’re totally my bitch.”

“No Sam, I’m pretty sure I’m not because you are withholding sex like the unhealthy relationship guy that you are! Get over it already. I’m your brother, and I make you hot. Those two facts? Not changing any time soon. And really, you infected me with the power of your magical sperm, so you owe me like a zillion blowjobs for that.”

“Hey! I’m the one that tried to stop you from doing it! You, I… I told you that this was a bad idea!” Sam yelled as he turned to stalk out of the room.

Dean vaulted off the couch to stand in Sam’s way. “This was an awesome idea! You’re just being fucking normal. Which is pissing me off because newsflash, Sammy, we aren’t normal. Haven’t ever been, and if you were being even halfway honest with yourself right now, you’d admit that you don’t want to be.”

 They glared tensely at each other for a while before Sam gave in and broke off eye contact. Dean couldn’t say that he was happy with the situation, but they weren’t beating on each other, and Sam wasn’t leaving, so it wasn’t the worst action he could have taken.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” Sam murmured to the floor.

“Yeah, the maple wood is blaming you for ending its happy life as a tree.” Dean snapped sarcastically.

Sam hunched his shoulders a little more, but didn’t look up.

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes and sigh. “Come on man, I’m not exactly crying over here. You, me… our shit has always been tangled up together. And you know there isn’t anybody I’ve ever loved more than you. It’s kind of unhealthy really. People tell me that guys don’t go around selling their souls for their little brothers.”

Sam covered his face with his hands. “God, Dean. Stop. That isn’t what this is about.”

“It isn’t? Because last I checked our argument was about it.” Dean tried not to sound confused, but he honestly was.

“No, that was me getting you riled up.” Sam admitted to his hands.

“Okay, well, you know that there are better ways to do that, right? Like strip teases and nakedness.”

A muffled groan of disbelief answered Dean.

“Are you going to look at me anytime soon, or did you fail to mention that I was actually Medusa and not Persephone?”

Sam’s head snapped up at that.

“Well, no turning to stone after all. See? There’s an upside right there.”  Dean teased gently.

The blush that covered Sam’s face said that he disagreed with his brother’s opinion.

The smile on Dean’s lips died as he managed to actually hold Sam’s gaze. “Dude, seriously. What’s wrong? I thought we got past all this. Remember? Kisses and hot sex? You can’t tell me it didn’t feel good.”

“Awkward sex,” Sam corrected, “You tripped over your own boxers.”

“Only because you were running from me.”

“Yeah, uh, about that…” Sam trailed off as his eyes sought the floor again.

Dean grabbed a hold of Sam’s chin and had to force it more sideways than up in order to make Sam look at him again. Sometimes it really sucked being the shorter of them.

“Yes?” he asked impatiently, because he might love Sam but he’d had enough of Sam’s avoidance to last more than the multiple, short lifetimes that he’d lived.

“I might be. You know how our telepathic connection is sort of spotty right now?” Sam asked.

In all honesty Dean hadn’t noticed it, but once Sam mentioned it the fact that the porn dialogue tended to wax and wane was interesting. He should have noticed it. Then again, he wasn’t the one with psychic experience, so he could give that one to Sam.

“Okay, I’m going to take your silence as a ‘no.’” Sam mumbled nervously.

“Let’s just say I’ll take your expert opinion on it, and thanks, by the way, for telling me it was a mutual thing.”

“I told you!”

“Ten minutes ago doesn’t count as telling! Not when you’ve been in my head all this time! Not when you’re withholding both sex and information!” Dean was maybe starting to lose his temper.

“See? This is just like you. I wasn’t going to mention it in front of Crowley and Cas and Jess, okay? And then, then when we got here it just seemed like there wasn’t a really opportune time to slip in a, ‘Hey Dean, swallowing your dick gave me a direct link to the tactical centers of your brain!’” Sam roared, and Dean ground his jaw in response.

He might be crap at romantic relationships, but he knew how to fight with his brother.

“Yeah, I can see how that long car ride out into the middle of freaking nowhere left you without a chance to say anything. Or did you not want to say anything in front of the dog?”

“You were causing spontaneous public sex when we were at stop lights, Dean! What was I supposed to do? Ignore the fact that we could get into a collision because you were making people engage in lewd acts in moving vehicles?” Sam wasn’t having any troubles meeting Dean’s gaze anymore. His face was flushed and his eyes were snapping defensively.

“I can’t believe that I’m having our first couples fight with you, and we haven’t had actual sex yet!” Dean yelled partially out of general frustration, but mostly because of his sexual frustration. He had a one track mind sometimes.

“And whose fault is that?” Sam yelled back.

Dean stared at him incredulously. “Yours!”

Sam blushed. A lot. Way more than when he had started to go through puberty and had worked up the courage to ask Dean to fill in the blanks that the sex ed teachers at three different schools had left out.

“Sammy?”

“I, uh, look. You know how when I was, ummm, and you told me…” Sam trailed off with an aborted gesture.

“No?”

“I want to be the girl!” Sam blurted out, then looked horrified and buried his face in his hands again. “God I hate you, I really do.” He mumbled viciously.

“Well, I mean, I didn’t think… Is this like a Hell thing or have you always been, you know… transgendered?” Dean choked out.

Sam whipped his hands down to glare at his brother. “Not like that you idiot.”

“Okay,” Dean let out a relieved breath, “well cross-dressing is fine, Sam. I mean, we might have a little trouble getting things in your size, but…”

“No. Dean. You know how you had that completely mortifying discussion with me about sex?”

Dean shook his head ‘no’ because how was he supposed to know which specific conversation Sam was referencing?

“You know the, ‘Look, Sammy, it’s okay if you want to try playing for the home team, but don’t you let some dude make you his girl. You’ve got to stay on top of your game. You get me. Don’t be a bitch even if you are one,’ speech?” Sam provided clarification.

“Oh. Ohhhh!” The grin that spread across Dean’s face was probably not appropriate.

“Dude. I hate you. I’m not kidding.”

“Sammy,” Dean purred, “I wasn’t talking about myself in that scenario, right? I couldn’t be letting you let some random dude tap your ass.”

“So you’re not going to mock me mercilessly for this?” Sam asked, sounding hopeful.

“Of course I am.”

“Fuck you. You can sleep on the couch.” Sam snapped.

“Aww, don’t be that way. You know that nobody loves your ass the way I do. And little Dean will take good care of your prostate.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It is a little bit.”

“I’m serious Dean, you’re going to be making really good friends with the couch.” Sam threatened.

“I’m already on a first name basis with it. What else do I need to do, propose to it?”

“Yes?”

“And here I thought you wanted me to get in your pants.”

“I do!” Sam stopped and opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I do.”

“So good, when we have sex you want to be the pushy bottom guy. It isn’t going to be a problem. So are we good now?” Dean asked.

“Maybe?”

Dean groaned. He really should have known that something else was coming and chances were good that it wasn’t going to be him.

“What else is there?” He grudgingly asked.

“It’s just, the psychic thing. Right now you’re hearing my sex thoughts because you’re like the daughter, uh son of the Earth and that’s where your power is, but I think if we keep on having sex then your powers are going to expand into mine. I’m not sure, but myth indicates that Persephone ruled the Underworld with Hades, so she had dominion, and…”

“And I’m not going to be crying if I have to learn how to deal with something else. As much as I love the sex thing, I don’t want to be the amazing fertility hunter, you know? It’s kind of emasculating.”

“But it’s unnatural, and I’m causing this to happen to you. And if I keep encouraging you to have sex with me, then we’re just going to get more intertwined with each other.”

Dean took a half second to contemplate the sheer stupidity that his brother possessed. Then he kissed him because arguing with Sam had only ever gotten them so far. Action was so much better than words.

Surprisingly, Sam was more than eager to reciprocate the kiss. As Dean’s tongue slid confidently into his mouth, Sam’s hand slid down to cup Dean’s ass and pull him closer.

Even though Dean was shorter and had to tilt his head up for them to kiss, Sam seemed content with letting Dean take the lead. Dean took that as a good sign because he has a bossy nature. It just wouldn’t do to be the passive one. He aggresses, Sam emotes, then Sam goes and does his passive aggressive thing, and Dean follows after.

It’s how they roll. It might not be right or healthy, but it’s right for them.

Smiling a little, Dean broke the kiss off. “Are you done freaking out about this?”

Sam shook his head and stole another kiss. “No.”

“Okay, well are we going to at least have sex tonight?”

Sam leaned his head back a bit and blinked coyly, “Maybe.”

“What, no self recriminations about turning your beloved Dean into some sort of freak with your magical, cursed jizz?” Dean asked because he apparently was developing a masochistic streak.

“Well I know you, and I can see you’re not giving up. Faced with that fact, it seems silly for me to keep refraining from begging you to pound my sweet, virgin ass into submission.”

Dean frowned. “You can’t possibly be that bad at sexy talk. You’re doing this to aggravate me.”

“You’re sporting wood. My bad sex talk is totally turning you on. It’s all the crappy porn you’ve watched in motels over the years.”

Dean smiled a little at Sam’s comment, but his face settled back into serious lines almost of its own will. “Sam,” he started, but he couldn’t think of what else to say. Don’t leave me again? Get over yourself already? Let me be with you?

Sam’s face turned sad for a moment before he kissed Dean’s forehead.

“You heard that, huh?” Dean grunted. This time he was the one whose eyes wouldn’t move off the floor.

“Yeah,” Sam admitted, “must be too much like plotting.”

“Why did you have to get that, huh? What does plotting have to do with ruling the Underworld?”

“You of all people did not just ask that question, did you?” Sam asked, amusement coloring his voice.

Dean shrugged because while hearing Sam’s mental porn was a benefit, it wasn’t exactly as useful as other things might be - like being able to know when Sam was about to run for the hills for instance.

“I’m sorry that I pushed you at Lisa, and I’m sorry I didn’t come to you right away. I’m sorry I made those decisions for you when they weren’t what you really wanted. I should have - I know you better than that.” Sam told him.

“You saying you love me?” Dean asked roughly.

“Kind of. What I guess I’m really saying is that I’m in love with you, and I’m going to try to not hurt you over it again. I’m going to try to quit running from you. Whether it’s throwing something in our way or actually trying to leave. I don’t want to be that guy anymore, but you know how I am.”

“Obsessive and Pigheaded? I know. I had a hand in making you that way.” Dean admitted.

Sam leaned down and stole another kiss. “So, you still want to do this? Be with me?”

“I’m pretty sure the whole binding myself to you through a mystical sex act was a good clue on that one.”

“No.  Do _you_ want to? I know what you’ll do for me, and I know that you love me, but I can’t have you giving up everything for me. You’ve done that enough. I keep screwing up, and you keep bailing me out, and I need for this to be what you want. Because I love you, but I’m not really Hades. I won’t trick you into a relationship by force.”

Dean nodded and backed up a couple of steps so that he could look at Sam directly. “I made my choice a long time ago. Maybe I knew I was faking it with Lisa, or maybe I just didn’t know how far gone I was. But deep down it’s always been you, Sammy. It will always be you, so you’re going to have to get used to that. And you’re going to have to accept that. I’m not going to dice up my feelings about you into nice, clean categories. You and me are it, and I don’t want anything else.”

He paused to let his words sink in. Sam jerked his head sharply and exhaled an, “Okay.”

“Good?” Dean asked with his eyebrows raised for emphasis.

“Good,” Sam confirmed.

“Great. Then can we quit talking like girls and get on with the sex? Because I think that there isn’t much more pollen that pine tree out back can produce before it actually starts building up in drifts.”

Sam nodded then smiled and wrapped Dean’s hand up in his own. Walking backwards, he tugged his brother along towards the bedroom.

“Come on, why don’t you I show you what kind of fruit I’ve really got to offer?” He said with an exaggerated wiggle of his hips for emphasis.

Dean laughed, and shoved him down on the bed.

After all, he owed Sam a blow job.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

FIN

 

 

 


	2. The River of Styx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A timestamp that was requested on a fic meme I did. The prompt was, "Dean discovers he can do something he thinks is cool. Sam thinks he's an idiot."

Sam resisted the urge to his head against the dashboard of the Impala. It was a near thing, but he did it. Gigantor, as Dean kept stubbornly calling the poor dog, whined in the backseat and covered his nose with his paws.

“Dean,” Sam said with a longsuffering whine.

“You don’t like it, turn it off.” Dean replied with a smug grin.

“I hate you.”

“Not what you said when I had your dick in my mouth last night,” Dean replied with a smarmy grin. The music in the car turned up despite both of Dean’s hands staying firmly on the wheel.

“We’re on a job.” Sam tried to reason.

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t even like Styx!” Sam tried a different tactic.

Dean grinned back at him. The look was a little unhinged. “Yeah, but that was before I could like summon their songs at will. At will man, tell me that isn’t awesome.”

“It’s not awesome, Dean. It’s very un-awesome. It’s Styx,” Sam emphasized the word like it was something dirty. As far as he was concerned it was.

If he had to hear “Come Sail Away” one more time he was going to scream. It was a clear abuse of their freakish powers, and Dean’s obsession with it had only gotten worse when he had realized that not only could he channel the band themselves but any covers of their songs as well.

The original version of “Come Sail Away” was bad enough. The Cartman sung South Park version was worse, especially when Dean decided that the sidewalk music or the elevator music or the freaking “Please hold, a representative will be with you shortly,” music wasn’t satisfactory and he decided to change it. It wasn’t like Dean was the one waiting on the line, now was he?

“Dude, look,” Sam started out, trying to control the urge to rain wrath and fire down on the road around them, “I know that you’re getting a kick out of this, but don’t you think you should focus on something a little more positive?”

Dean turned to look at him. The way his face twisted clearly suggested that he thought Sam had lost his mind.

“Like what? Growing freaking tomatoes?” Dean asked mockingly.

“Tell me you’re not still hung up on that,” Sam pleaded even though he already knew the answer.

“Uh, yeah. You get all the cool Underworld dominating, demon ass kicking mojo, and I get to play Mother Earth. Not cool, Sammy. Now controlling the river Styx? That is cool.”

“If it was a nineties band, you wouldn’t care.” Sam lamented.

“That’s because if they were a nineties band they wouldn’t have named themselves something cool. They’d be the Fluffy Hearts Band or Crybaby Tender Loves or something. Besides, it’s not my fault that my freakish powers can’t tell the difference between the flow of music and the flow of some badass Hell river.” Dean argued.

“Underworld, Dean,” Sam corrected wearily.

“Beside the point, Sammy,” Dean dismissed his concerns with a wave of his hand, “If you don’t want me playing with this stuff, then you’ll just have to learn to say ‘no’ to blowjobs.”

Yeah, like that was going to happen. It wouldn’t fix anything to begin with, and Dean was too cajoling to go too long without consummating their union.

“I can tell by your sigh that you agree with me.” Dean said victoriously.

“Fine. Whatever. You’re super cool with your ability to channel bad seventies songs with your sperm transferred powers.” Sam sniped sarcastically.

“Aww, I love you too, Baby.” Dean retorted as “Lady” started rolling around in the car at an obnoxious volume.

Sam knew when to give up on an argument with Dean. He really did. “Just,” he asked as he pulled a cassette tape out from the glove compartment, “can we listen to Metallica instead?”

Dean gleefully stopped pumping Styx through the radio and popped the tape in. Sam was certain that he’d never been so grateful to hear “Master of Puppets.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] Abduction of Myth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7566778) by [EosRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EosRose/pseuds/EosRose)




End file.
